


Hush

by Hurricanerin



Series: All Reason Aside [2]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Loki laufeyson - Fandom, Lokiverse, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Baby Njall, Daddy Loki, Dom Loki, Domestic Loki, Dominant Loki, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Helicopter Parent Loki, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunn Loki, King Loki, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki's Kids, Loki-centric, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hurricanerin/pseuds/Hurricanerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after Signe and Loki settle in to a routine with their baby son in Asgard, rumor arises that Loki is the true heir of Jötunheim. The small family travels to the realm only to be broken apart.  Smut n' feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stronger

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the beautiful and talented [Caffiend](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend) and [TehLadyCav](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLadyCav/pseuds/TehLadyCav) for beta'ing. Both are ridiculously talented, please go check them out.

Loki woke to a warm, wet tongue wrapping itself around his hardening cock.  Without opening his eyes, he groaned, burying his fingers in his wife’s long hair and fisting it.  She splayed her open palm against his firm abdomen, smiling around his length when his muscles flexed as she ran her fingers along the downy trail of hair on his belly.

“Signe,” he groaned.

“Mhmmm?”

She didn’t bother pulling her mouth from him before responding.  She knew he liked to feel her hum over his swelling cock.  Signe smiled in satisfaction when he grunted and his grip tightened in her hair.

“Come here.”

She started to refuse him, but her mumbled denial turned into a giggle as Loki rudely interrupted her, pulling her to him.

“I was enjoying myself,” she pouted, exaggeratedly sticking out her lower lip.

Wrapping her slender fingers around his bobbing length, Signe made to lean forward once more but Loki growled and jerked her back by her hair.  She often tortured him like this, dragging his groggy mind from sleep with her lips and tongue wreaking havoc on his sensory system.

Yanking her by her hair, he crushed his mouth against her lips, moving his free hand to run his fingers along the textured surface of the emerald and diamond collar he’d gifted her.  He smirked to himself.  Signe refused to remove it, claiming she’d grown accustomed to the weight of the heavy stones and found it comforting, a fact alone that made his cock harden.  Signe proudly wore his ring, but there was a something more primal about having his brand around her neck that made the Prince crazy.

Signe’s giggles immediately converted to moans as her husband plundered her mouth, punishing her for her reluctance to obey.  Truly she didn’t see the harm in going against his wishes if it meant getting his cock sucked, but her Prince got what he wanted in one way or another.

Whimpering when his teeth nipped at her lower lip, she wrapped her arm around his neck and crawled into his lap.  Typically, sanity does not encourage moving _toward_ the pain, but with Loki, the more it hurt, the more decadent the reward at the end.

When neither were capable of keeping their hips still a moment longer, Loki flipped them so that Signe was on her back.  She lay with her wrists relaxed above her head, silently surrendering to her husband as he looked down at her ravenously.  Holding himself up on one palm, he traced his finger along her dip in her collar bone and followed with his mouth.  He kissed his way across her chest and neck, biting gently in warning each time she squirmed or tried to cant her hips against him. 

His travels took him to her pulse point, and he nuzzled her necklace out of the way and latched his lips against her skin, making her breath hitch and her lower half wriggle. 

Where she was emotional and spontaneous, Loki was slow and methodical and he used it against her.  He had all the patience in the world and thoroughly enjoyed driving her insane.  Despite his nips, the poor girl couldn’t keep her hips still.  Loki chuckled against her skin and laved his tongue over a bite mark scar he’d left on the juncture of her neck and shoulder in the woods the morning he’d caught her running from him.

Signe gave a breathy moan, arching up to rub the sensitive mark against his tongue.  Loki pressed his palm flat against her chest to push her back against the bed, but she stubbornly clung to him until he settled some of his weight on her. 

She practically purred, rolling her body beneath his and grinning in satisfaction as he groaned.

“Please, Loki,” she breathed

The couple froze as a wail echoed throughout their room. 

For most royal families, waking to a crying baby was avoided through the use of a wet-nurse.  Loki, however, condemned all breastmilk that wasn’t his wife’s.  The Prince almost ruined relations with the realm’s entire population of nurses when he attempted to explain that theirs simply wasn’t of the same quality as Signe’s and couldn’t properly sustain his growing son.  Signe and Frigga managed to smooth over relations with the offended Asgardian women, but for many it was still a sensitive subject.

Ever the attentive father, fading raging erection or no, Loki moved to exit the bed but Signe gently tugged his wrist, her mouth hungrily seeking his for one more kiss before tending to their child.

“He’s hungry,” she said with a devious smile.

She slid from the bed, donning a deep green satin robe and padding to the fussing baby.  Cooing as she picked him up, she stroked his little puff of ebony hair as she sat in the grand rocking chair that occupied Njall’s corner of the room.  Humming, she pulled her robe off her shoulder, cradled the baby and helped him latch onto her nipple.

Loki loved Signe’s breasts.  He loved how they looked, how they felt, how they bounced when he fucked her.  But watching his wife soothing and feeding their baby with her body made him react in ways he’d never expected.

When mother and son had finished, Signe kissed each of his pale blue-tinted cheeks before laying him down.  It had been Loki’s brilliant idea to keep Njall’s crib soundproof from outside noises.  The new parents could still hear the baby, but no noises in the room penetrated the protective bubble Loki enchanted it with, and when they were intimate, Loki raised a protective screen between the bed and the crib.  Njall was a good sleeper, but neither had any desire in accidentally putting on a show for the baby.

Halfway between Njall’s screen and the bed, Signe’s robe pooled to the floor and she sauntered nonchalantly back to her husband who stared at her with unblinking eyes and a smile that promised utter debauchery.

Signe perched on the edge of the bed as her husband crawled to her like a predator.  He slid a finger along the side of her breast. 

“Do they feel better, little peach?  Not so sore?”

She nodded, whimpering and letting her head drop, her long blonde curls tickling her bare back as his hands caressed her chest.

Loki was rarely _consciously_ manipulative of his wife anymore.  The lessons he’d learned were hard especially as Signe typically used refusing sex as a deterrent against incidents of bad behavior, which was overwhelmingly effective.  But during sex, the bastard was manipulative as fuck.  And she liked it.  He teased her and taunted her until she was a whimpering mess, uncharacteristically begging shamelessly for her husband to do wonderfully dirty things to her.

Signe’s attention was yanked back to reality when her husband’s mouth closed over her nipple.  The first time it happened after having Njall, she had been horrified.  Her face flamed with embarrassment as she took in Loki’s surprised expression and she reached for her robe.  But Loki’s face quickly morphed from stunned to wolfish as he wiped a dribble of milk from his lip and he heaved her back to him, and promptly reattached his mouth to her breast.

The act was incredibly erotic, to Signe’s surprise.  It wasn’t something she necessarily encouraged; aside from feeling self-conscious about it, Loki also tended to make a mess, but she certainly didn’t mind the attention.

Her husband’s hands and mouth wandered, placing gentle kisses.  Just as she was getting lost in the feeling of his hands and mouth on her, Loki slid off the mattress and took Signe’s hand, pulling her to their favorite bureau.  It was the perfect height for her to wrap her legs around his hips and for him to thrust into her at the most delectable angle.  The long dressing mirror off to the side definitely added to the location appeal as well.

Hoisting her as easily as he would a child, Loki lifted Signe atop the dresser.  Her arms draped over his shoulders as he guided her legs around his hips.  The Prince dragged the head of his cock over her throbbing clit and with a moan, his wife’s head fell back against a hanging tapestry and her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Keep your eyes open,” Loki rumbled.

Signe felt fingers tilt her chin as her husband forced her lust-filled eyes to focus on his.  Her jaw bobbed briefly as she planned to retort, but any sass evaporated before reaching her lips.  His wife was articulate and eloquent, and it gave the prince a heady rush that only he had the power to reduce her to mewling and sex starved begging.

“Yes, my Prince,” she mumbled languidly, grinning when Loki groaned at her use of his title.

Unable to stand teasing either of them any longer, Loki sheathed himself in his wife with a single rough thrust.  She gasped as her body adjusted to his size and twined her ankles together behind him.  As he began to thrust, Loki nuzzled her cheek and jaw firmly to direct her gaze to the mirror at their side.

“Do you see how beautifully you take me?  Your body was made for this,” he whispered against her temple, “You look utterly divine with my cock buried inside of you.  Only mine,” he accented his claim with an especially deep thrust that made her see stars.

He increased the pace with which he drove into her, intentionally making it difficult for her to respond.  However far gone she was, Signe knew her husband and she knew what he wanted to hear.  Her pleasure-addled brain didn’t have to formulate the sentence, she just needed to get the memorized line past her lips.

“Only yours, my love,” she repeated breathily, grasping the back of his neck to pull his mouth to hers.  Upon hearing her admission, his hips began to snap forcefully against hers, and he wasn’t alone.  Her hips met his with a repetitive slap as they each neared their peak.  He could feel the pulsing throb of her around him and with a smirk he slid his hands to her bottom, lifting her in the air and stumbling to the wall next to them. 

Warm back against the chilled surface, her fingers hurriedly fumbled along the stones of the wall in search of purchase.  Her shaking hands found and seized the top edge of the tapestry.  Signe’s fingers curled into the fabric as Loki pulled her hips from the wall in order to position her bent knees to the crooks of his elbows, which allowed him to steadily grip her hips.  Brutally he began bouncing her.  Signe’s eyes slammed shut in delirious anticipation as Loki drew his hips back and slammed himself up into her.  The change in angle was positively divine.  With each thrust his hips slapped against her rear and his cock rubbed inside her at just the right position and rate.

Signe was completely powerless.  The only control she had over the situation was the grip with which her little fingers seized the wall hanging with.  It took several of his thrusts (and Loki finally slowing down as punishment for her ignoring him) to realize he was growling at her.

“Open your eyes and look at me or I won’t let you come, little peach,” he panted.  Despite gasping for her own breath, internally she smirked.  Loki liked to boast and use full sentences while they had sex, as if his intellect surpassed hers while coupling.  But upon reopening her eyes she saw clearly how far gone her husband was as he gazed down at her through half lidded eyes.  She obeyed demurely, watching his face as he took her.

He tweaked the position just so by hoisting her hips up and all she could see was white heat.  His pelvis ground against her clit and hazily she realized the noises she heard were flowing from her mouth in desperate pleas for him to go faster.  Loki obliged, sending her skyrocketing into orgasm.  Her plush walls squeezed around her husband’s cock, begging him to find release in her.  As she peaked, her grip on the tapestry weakened and she fell forward, wrapping her arms around Loki’s shoulders.  Holding her still, he pressed her back against the wall and hammered into her, finally sent over the edge as the tight squeeze of her velvet sheath coaxed thick ropes of come from him. 

Slowly, eventually, they slid down the wall, Loki’s shaking legs no longer able to hold them both.  Collapsing on the floor, Signe laughed sleepily and curled against his side as he conjured them a small citadel of pillows and blankets to nestle in to.  Loki pulled a soft green afghan over his wife as her heavy breathing evened.  He kissed her sweaty forehead and sighed contentedly as they fell asleep, both far too exhausted to stagger to the bed, despite it being fifteen feet away from their nest.

The rest of the castle was, for the most part, silent.  Signe was seconds from sleep when from down the hallway she swore she heard the echo of semi-thunderous trudging and the grumbling voice of her brother-in-law muttering something about soundproofing doors. 


	2. Go With the Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! I apologize for the lapse in time between chapters, I'm usually much better at updating and I promise I'll put them out faster in the future.

Loki brushed a single finger along the blue-toned porcelain skin of his son’s cheek.  Like the elder Prince, Njall was cool to the touch, enough so that Signe’s body temperature had lowered five degrees in her third trimester.

The standing toddler cooed at his father, smiling and bouncing in his crib as Loki studied him.  He plucked his son from his bed and kissed his pudgy cheek, crooning into Njall’s ear in his sweet baritone voice.

“Good morning my darling son.”

“Mumum,” Njall agreed, waving his hand excitedly before attempting to stuff it in his mouth.

Loki took everything Njall had to say very seriously.  It drove him mad that Signe had ongoing conversations with their child, while Loki worked himself into a sweat getting the baby to say “Dada.”  

He strode with Njall back to his own canopied bed where Signe still lay curled in the warm spot he’d left.  Her head lifted from her pillow and she smiled sleepily.

“Hello my loves.”

Loki bent down to kiss her and Njall grabbed a hunk of her blonde hair, his wet fingers catching on the silken strands.  The elder Prince carefully untangled the sticky hand from his wife’s hair and set the baby on the bed.  Satisfied that she was completely released, he tucked Signe’s hair behind her ear and cupped her face.  Drowsily she closed her eyes and leaned against him, humming happily.  When Njall started squawking, his practiced father grabbed a croissant from a steaming breakfast tray and handed it to the baby, who began gnawing at once.

Signe leaned forward and brushed the Njall’s dark hair from his face as he worked his incoming teeth on the bread. 

She turned, speaking over her shoulder, “He looks more and more like you every day.  His eyes are more amber than before.”

Loki stiffened behind her.  He shook his head and grunted in frustration.

“Every time I conceal his blue skin he uses his own magic to revert back.  He overpowers my work so easily.  He will be more powerful than his father,” Loki muttered, his tone a mixture of pride and tarnished ego.

“Not more powerful, but if he takes delight in his Jötunn heritage, quite possibly smarter.”

While Loki sputtered, she donned a dressing gown and scooped Njall from the mattress.

She brushed crumbs from the sheets, “No more feeding him in bed with us, he makes a horrible mess.”

“A mess that I can clean instantaneously.”

“Loki, enough.  We’ve discussed this.  Either you can get him up and _then_ hand him off to the nursemaids, or they can get him up on their own.”

Her growled and narrowed his eyes at her, but the menacing expression had long lost its effect on Singe. 

With Njall on her hip, she rang for the nursemaids.  He was learning to stumble with the help of furniture and guiding hands, and soon he would walk on his own.  While in bed with Loki, Signe used her developing expertise to persuade her husband into agreeing that once Njall began moving independently, it was time for their son to spend the day with staff.  Signe personally interviewed each of the women in secret, away from Loki’s unrealistic standards and threatening glances and selected those fit for caring for their son.

As much as she adored her little prince, it no longer served the boy to be coddled by his parents all day.  She knew Loki was upset by this, but her husband was often pulled away at court.   He didn’t spend the same hours as Signe watching their boy, which was tiring, even with the assistance of several servants.  Not that she didn’t enjoy it, but for her own sanity she needed a break and it was time for Njall to socialize with other children.

Signe’s independence from her son also meant she would finally be alongside Loki at court, something she was very much looking forward to.  Being a mother was wonderful, but a first row seat for matters in court would be a nice change of pace.

x

The first day she entered the throne room with Loki, Signe was surprised to find herself shivering.  It was unusually cold; she could see her puff of breath rise in the air as it came from between her lips.  The freezing air was mottled with solemnity.  Signe’s stomach rolled when Frigga, who always greeted her daughter-in-law with a warm smile, could muster only a standard, cordial expression at the girl.  Odin was foreboding and displeased as always, but even Thor’s lovely face was marred with a frown. 

The deeper they walked into the room, the more intense the freezing air became, despite the hall being stuffed to capacity with Asgardian nobility.  Signe’s bare arms erupted in tiny goosebumps.  Though her husband ran cool, she forwent the comfort of heat and linked her arm with his in an effort to sooth herself. 

Both prince and princess faltered when, as the crowd parted, they saw four looming blue figures standing before the three seated members of the royal family.  Their backs to the couple, the Frost Giants shifted uncomfortably, their icy muscles tensed.  When the first Jötunn spotted Loki and his wife approaching, immediately he fell to his knees, quickly followed by the other three Giants.

Loki strode past them, ignoring his guests completely, and Signe was tugged along and forced to do the same, though she attempted to put the Giants at ease with a smile. 

They neared Odin’s grand throne, modified for court so that one of his chair’s large, wing-like protrusions wrapped around the left of the dais, creating a second seat for his Queen.  Frigga’s chair was an elegant, more feminine version of her husband’s.  Behind the King and Queen sat three intricately decorated golden chairs:  Behind Odin lay a grand seat for Thor, and two equally impressive pieces rested behind Frigga, joined together like the King and Queen’s, for Loki and Signe.

The pair continued forward and to their seats.  Signe looked to her husband and saw Loki’s face was blank, his eyebrows slightly risen, which she knew to be more concerning than if he were to glare.  His eyes were everywhere but on the visitors, who continued to kneel respectfully.

After several moments of silence, Loki cleared his throat.

“What is this?” 

Odin sniffed and adjusted his grip on his staff.

“The Jötunn have requested an audience.”

When Loki spoke, it was only to the Allfather, completely disregarding the blue figures

before him. “And an audience they have.  What is it the beasts want?”

Signe flinched at the insult and trained her eyes on the King.  Though Odin stoically stared forward at his visitors as he searched for a response, Signe saw Frigga glance anxiously between the giants and her youngest son.  The queen watched Loki for several beats, trying to get his attention to urge him to recall his lessons in diplomacy.

Finally, one of the Giants spoke, looking directly at Loki.

“We are here to bring our King home, Sire.”

Still kneeling, the other three nodded in earnest.  All four pairs of ruby eyes were trained on Loki, who glanced between Odin and the Jötunn.

As realization crossed his features, Loki’s lip curled in disgust as he shot to his feet.

“I ask again: _What_ is this _, Allfather?”_

Odin shifted in his seat.  His jaw worked up and down and his brows furrowed in displeasure when he failed to compose an answer for the prince.

Loki’s glare grew colder as each moment passed.  It wasn’t until Frigga spoke that Signe released her breath in relief.

“My son, our guests request that you return to Jötunheim with them as their rightful ruler.”

Thor interjected with a chuckle, “Brother!  It is as you have always wanted.  A kingdom of your own!”

Loki’s fierce green eyes shot to his adoptive brother.

“I no longer have such childish desires.  The trials and tribulations of a king do not interest me.  I have far better things to do with my time.  Tell these savages to return home to their godforsaken ice rock.”

Signe clenched her fist to keep from slipping her hand in his.  The anger that radiated from her husband was reminiscent of when she had returned to the castle not long ago, when the Prince was malicious, cruel and full of rage.  In that moment, she wanted so badly to remind him that he wasn’t alone.  Instead, she clasped her hands in her lap, her knuckles turning white.  This was no place for her to show her beloved physical affection, no matter how it pained her not to.  Instead, she spoke softly but clearly.

“My Prince, my King,” she nodded respectfully to Loki and Odin, though her gaze came to rest on Frigga.

“I am sure our visitors are weary from travel.  Would it not be best to allow them to recover from their journey and readdress their request in the morning?”

Signe could’ve sworn she saw Frigga hiding a proud, relieved smile beneath her hand. 

 Odin blustered, clearly uncomfortable with the Frost Giants in his palace, but Frigga rose gracefully and motioned to the blue men. 

 “Come, allow the Princess and I to personally show you to your quarters.  You must be exhausted.”

Signe couldn’t help herself.  She took Loki’s hand in hers and placed a quick kiss against the back before she stood and joined Frigga.  Torn between following the Queen of Asgard and staying with Loki, their pronounced King, the men finally opted for joining the queen when the prince refused to make eye contact.

x

As suspected, when Signe returned to their chambers, Loki was fuming.  There were several priceless vases and statues that lay in pieces on the floor, likely a result of the grown man’s tantrum. 

Before she made it through the doorway, he furiously he gripped Signe’s arm and tugged her to him, causing her to stumble and brace her palms against his chest with a gasp.

“You are my wife,” he growled, “And a Princess of Asgard, but do _not_ presume to have a word of influence in dealings with Jötunheim.  You know nothing of the barbarians and will not intrude on such matters again.”

Signe’s scowl was mild as she considered her husband, but her overall expression clearly conveyed displeasure. 

“I’m sorry.  When the Jötunn are involved you become so blinded—.”

The Prince scoffed and shuffled them further into their rooms.  For once he was relieved Njall wasn’t there with them.  He didn’t have the patience to shield the baby from the lechery he was about to subject his wife to.

He herded her to their bed, pushing her onto her back as he slid one of his throwing knives from his sleeve.  He pinned her in place with a hard gaze as he stalked towards her.  She didn’t dare move.  The girl held her breath as her husband cut the bodice of her dress stitch by stitch, his eyes on hers as he delicately slid the knife beneath the laces binding it together.  Once he was finished decimating the fabric against her torso, he made a small tear at the top of the skirt and tore it down the length of her body. “Loki—.”

He ignored her.  Once divested of her undergarments, he shed his own armor and knelt on the bed.  He crawled over her, lowering his face so his nose brushed against hers.

“Do not talk.  You have no right to speak.”

She glared at him but kept her lips sealed, giving him a nod that she understood. 

Kneeing her legs apart, he settled between them.  She lay still on the bed, her arms raised above her head in surrender.  She knew he was upset, and not truly with her.

No one was ignorant of the fact that Loki’s own parentage disturbed him.  He spent the first few days of their baby’s life disguising Njall’s Jötunn appearance with magic.  The Prince had hoped that his baby’s Asgardian heritage and looks would take over permanently and keep Njall from suffering in Asgard.  Watching his child revert back to his beautiful, blue-toned porcelain self pained the elder prince immensely.  Loki wanted so badly to protect his son from a threat that only he perceived.

Signe watched his beautifully sculpted face contort with anger and her chest ached for her husband.  He was still such a child in so many ways.  He didn’t know how to express his grief or rage and instead lashed out at those he loved most.  She was glad he made most of his attempts at her, because she was the only person that could diffuse a rampaging Loki.  

However, this time she struggled to decipher the look he was giving her.  It was a mixture of grief, ire, insecurity and something she couldn’t put her finger on.  It was difficult not to let his insecurity hurt her.  Some days she thought he still questioned her feelings for him, which made her want to throttle the prince.  She knew intellectually he comprehended that she loved him.  He still had darker days of self-doubt, but his confidence and self-assuredness had grown immensely since Njall was born.  Despite his rocky relationship with his own paternal figure, he fell into his role as a father naturally once Signe assured Loki he wasn’t going to break their son.

 _Their son_.  Children were so frighteningly perceptive.  If the Frost Giants were about to become involved in Loki’s life, as they appeared to have already done, Njall was bound to pick up on his father’s sense of self-loathing and could possibly adopt it himself if it didn’t desist.  Aside from loving them both as hard as she could, Signe didn’t know how else to help her husband other than to give herself to him completely.

“Loki,” she breathed once more.

When she tentatively she moved a hand, he lunged forward to catch her wrist and pin it to the bed.  He stared over her like a frightened animal, his eyes blazing and his face almost feral.  Faster than he was able to process, she slipped her free hand over his heart, comforted by the steady beat beneath her palm.

Sometimes, the only way to calm Loki was with her body.  She knew it was dysfunctional, that theirs probably wouldn’t constitute as a _healthy_ relationship, but she didn’t care.  The prince had suffered so much in his lifetime, and if she could ease his pain, she was willing to go to any length to do so.   

“Use me,” Signe urged quietly.  “Take me,” she murmured and moved her hand to stroke his face.  “Nothing you can do or say will scare me away from you.  Please.”

He was still staring accusingly at her when she slipped her hand back over her head, which he promptly trapped with his own. 

When he blinked, his eyes refocused, flitting down to his wife’s serene face.

Meeting his gaze, she gasped as he thrust himself suddenly against her, the softness of her slick cunt creating a perfect track for his hardening cock to slide along.

She let her head drop back and canted her hips, embracing fully the manner in which Loki best detoxed from pent up angst.

The Prince smirked down at her.  He knew how much she hated being teased.  Well, she loved the concept, but in the moment she was a horrid victim.  She whimpered and cried and pleaded and begged, but Loki would go on denying her for hours.  She had a bad feeling this was going to be one of those nights. 

For so long her husband felt helpless, powerless of his status in Asgard and of his Jötunn blood.  It gave him (and her) great joy to control her completely.  Even when he became unhinged and out of control, she stayed with him and accepted him.  She was absolutely sincere in telling him nothing could tear her away from him.

Her husband continued to rut against her and bent forward to seal his lips over her own.  He drank deeply from her, pulling away only when both of their chests were on the brink of exploding from lack of air.

She longed to touch him, but when he was in such a state, she knew from experience it was best that she remain with her wrists and body pinned against the bed by his own.

After several minutes of thoroughly plundering her mouth, Loki rose over her, his eyes flitting everywhere:  Her helpless, needy expression, swollen lips, her heaving chest.  Slipping an arm beneath her knee, he slowly spread her open for him, taking a moment to thoroughly appreciate his wife’s throbbing cunt.  Though her cheeks reddened with bits of shame and self-consciousness, she could feel herself throb under his scrutiny.

Both groaned when he nudged the blunt tip of his cock, weeping with precome, against her hot entrance.  His eyes fixated on where he teased of her, a dark smile curled across his lips.

Her husband growled and gently assaulted her clit with the slick head of his cock before guiding himself slowly inside her.  Signe gasped and forced herself to keep still, her fists clenched tightly as to not fight his control over her.  While still holding her wide open with one arm beneath her knee, Loki clutched the back of her neck with his free arm, pulling her mouth to his as he began to fuck her slowly. 

Signe was dripping.  She couldn’t help it when her husband looked at her with such lust blown eyes.  As his mouth claimed hers she arched her back, planting her palms flat against the bed as she tried fucking him back.  She was too wound up for him to tease.  She needed him _now_. 

Expecting her to keep her leg in place, Loki forfeited his grasp on her thigh to punish his wife.  The sound of the Prince’s palm slapping her breast echoed through their chambers, as did her yelp.  With a reluctant whimper of defeat, Signe lay herself back against the support of his arm, her neck still clutched by his strong hand. 

Repositioning his other arm, he considered the woman beneath him as he lazily thrust and pulled his cock from inside her.  She could see him thinking, but for the life of her couldn’t read his expression, which was rare.

Suddenly he pulled out of her and his greedy hands were on her hips.  He flipped her so she sprawled on all fours, and when he pushed on the small of her back her she unintentionally presented her pussy to him in offering.  She arched her back as she felt him probe her entrance once more, eager to feel his hips flush against her rear.

Truly Signe tried her best to be an obedient little wife when he needed her like this, but sometimes her body had ideas of its own, and this was most definitely one of those times.  With a whine she rocked her hips back, attempting to impale herself on his cock.  This only earned her a sharp slap on her rump, which stilled the needy princess with a pouty huff.

“Patience, little peach,” Loki crooned, completely in his element.  He loved watching the mother of his child writhing beneath him, loved knowing it was he who turned such a respectable noblewoman into a keening, wonton slut that belonged him alone.  His cock throbbed as he reminded himself this woman was _his_.  His wife, the fierce mother of his darling son and a woman who openly stood up what she believed in, who would let him do whatever he wanted with her.  The Prince groaned as his hips surged forward of their own volition, burying himself inside Signe.

The princess’s head dropped forward as she groaned in satisfaction and relief.  Despite the threat of a spanking, she continued arching her back and attempted to widen her knees to give him a better view in hopes of enticing Loki further.

Her strategy was immensely effective.  Loki dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips as he reeled back, then forcefully thrust himself back inside of her.  Signe whimpered, both in delight and need.  Loki knew she was desperate for a hard fucking, but he denied her because it gave him pleasure to watch his normally strong, independent wife beg.  An obscene amount of pleasure.

Signe whined in frustration.  She knew this game.  He loved to tease her past coherent thought.

“Loki.”

The Prince stilled, gaining control of his breathing before he responded.

"Yes, little peach?”

“Harder,” she whimpered.

That voice made the coil in his belly tighten.  He couldn’t help himself.  He pulled out slowly once more before ramming himself back into her, groaning in satisfaction at the slap of skin.  Loki continued, his thrusts more forceful, just as she’d asked, but at an agonizingly slow pace. 

He loved seeing her body jar with each pump of his hips, and he reached a hand around

to grope at her breast, moaning as he felt the force of his thrust vibrate through her entire body. 

Despite his slow tempo, Signe could barely breathe.  She gasped for air for each violent thrust of his hips against her rear caused the poor girl to lose her breath.  But she loved it.  Only she could make Loki act and feel this way.  It was her body alone that brought him such pleasure, that sparked him to tease her until she was a whimpering whore, begging for him to fuck her.

Loki happily continued his brutal rut, at one point gathering her hair in his fist and, using the hand he had on her chest, pulled her up so her back was flush against his front.  Selfishly he palmed both breasts in his hands, moaning as he felt her nipples harden from his ministrations.  Signe clutched her own hands over his, her nails digging into him as she begged him.  For what, exactly, she was unsure, but Loki knew his wife well enough to know that she was desperate. 

“Do you need something, little peach?”

“Yes!”

His chuckle was breathy as he tried to suck air into his starved lungs.

“What will happen the next time we are at court, dear wife?”

Signe made a noise halfway between a growl and a whimper.  She knew what the bastard wanted to hear.  She also knew he could feel her cunt contract around him each time she made this particular promise to him.

“I’ll be good, my Prince.”

Her vow caused his hips to react immediately, heaving forward as they snapped against her.  In her position, Signe was completely helpless.  All she could do was trust that her husband would take pity on her deliriously needy state and finally allow her an orgasm in exchange for her submission at court.  Both knew such an arrangement likely wouldn’t last; she was too opinionated.  But in the moment, a bargain such as theirs provided immensely satisfying orgasms for both parties involved.

"My good, perfect little peach,” he panted against her ear.

She cried out, squeezing his hands beneath hers in desperation.  He redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against her at a brutal rhythm.  Her stomach fluttered as muscles tightened, the need between her legs reaching an unbearable point until she came.  She screamed, her head falling back against Loki’s shoulder as he fucked her through her climax.  As he felt her walls spasm over his length, he completely lost control of his thrusts as his body overpowered his mind.  The Prince himself cried out, groping her chest with what would normally be an uncomfortable pressure, were it not for the orgasm wreaking delicious havoc on her nervous system.  Cunt still squeezing him, Signe groaned in completion as she felt her husband coat the walls of her pussy with his thick come. 

After they had more or less caught their breaths, Loki pulled out of her and dragged her to his side, spooning her.

He kissed beneath her ear twice as he panted softly.

“Thank you.”

Signe lifted his hand from where it sat on her hip and brought it to rest between her breasts, over her heart.  They both fell asleep, lulled by the gentle beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Loki is slipping out of character, and I apologize. He's just always portrayed as so tortured.. I'd like to think having a wife and child would change him, even just a little.


	3. I've Had Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time the author didn't spoil the chapter with a summary.

It was Njall’s babbles echoing through the corridor that woke the Prince.  Groggily Loki donned a pair of trousers and met the nursemaid at the door.  He took the baby, who was delivered fed and sleepy, from the woman and thanked her (as per Signe’s rules), before shutting the door with a relieved sigh.  As much comfort as his wife gave him, he was never completely at ease until he had both Signe and Njall safe and under his watchful eye.

He tread quietly to Njall’s room, which the younger Prince earned once his attempts at talking began.  Signe had been at her wits end, ready to banish both husband and son because whenever Njall started talking to himself, Loki would engage and wind the baby up, keeping all three of them from sleep.

Once Njall no longer slept in their immediate chambers, Loki, ever the watchful parent, enchanted the long dressing mirror so that when prompted, it provided a clear view of the baby in his crib, accompanied with live sound from the room.

As Loki entered his son’s room, he carefully waded through the mess on the floor.  Njall’s room was cluttered with toys that came to life when touched, books with animated pages, and brilliant glowing mobiles from Alfheim.  He wanted for nothing, Loki made sure of that.  With a wave of his hand, Loki summoned a large toy chest and flicked his wrist to send the toys flying into storage. 

The elder prince was constantly berated on this issue.  Both Signe and several nursemaids had nearly broken their necks on the mess of toys Loki continuously bequeathed his son.  Loki raised the ceilings of the baby’s quarters to accommodate countless shelves and toy chests to fit all of Njall’s playthings, but sometimes the elder Prince became so enthralled with entertaining his son that he forgot to put away his mess.  The issue was pressed to the point that Signe threatened to dispose of everything if Loki couldn’t keep the room tidy.

Pleased with the cleared floor, Loki selected a book from the shelf and sat in the green and gold rocking chair situated in the corner of the room.  With the baby in his lap, began reading, asking Njall questions and helping him identify the moving pictures as they flipped through the pages.  Soon, his son’s lids stayed shut longer and longer after each blink.  The Prince quietly closed the book and hefted the baby up into his arms.  Humming, Loki walked, gently bouncing Njall to his crib and lay him down.  Gingerly he covered him with a blanket and stroked his hair from his face as his eyes finally closed. 

Loki took several minutes to watch him, as he often did after putting Njall to sleep.  There were times that the elder prince felt an ache in his chest when he looked at the toddler.  He would give anything to keep his son from hurting, be it from a skinned knee or a juvenile broken heart.  What if he couldn’t protect him from the world?  The fact that he currently shared a roof with Frost Giants drove him mad.  How could Signe not see the threat they posed?  If anything were to happen to his baby, he would be utterly destroyed, but intellectually he knew he couldn’t shield Njall forever.

With a sigh Loki exited the room, closing the door to prevent his son from hearing the raucous he and his wife were about to make.

            x

The next morning, Signe harassed Loki into joining her for breakfast with the Jötunn.  When they walked into the Great Hall, Loki’s manner changed completely.  He became rigid and haughty, much like he was in the years before Signe returned to him.  He glared straight ahead, even as they sat, avoiding the glances of his guests.

Frigga and a slightly grumpy Odin arrived shortly after and took their seats at the head of the table and the meal began.  Slightly awkward, though pleasant, conversation flowed between the visitors and their hosts.  After the second course was served, a large shadow loomed in the doorway.

Another giant stepped forward.  The Jötunn was slightly shorter and more slender than the others with long, ebony locks that flowed over her shoulders.  A woman.  All four male giants rose and flocked to her side, two moving in front as if to shield her from potential danger.

“Enough,” her voice cracked like a whip.  She pushed through her guards and advisor.

“Princess—.”

“ _Enough_.  Step back.  That is an order.”

Loki’s skin prickled.  His eyes narrowed at the woman.

“So the barbarians have snuck yet another Jötunn into Asgard.  Congratulations.  Who, pray tell, are you, little savage?”

The woman flinched but stood her ground.

“I am Isla, the Princess Regent of Jötunheim.”

“A princess?  Jötunheim has no princess.”

“Laufey was not my father by… blood.”  She cleared her throat, no longer looking Loki in the eye.  “I have no real claim to the throne.”

“You were what?  Adopted, then?”

“By Laufey, yes, I suppose.  My father died before I was born.  Laufey took Mother as his wife shortly after… But as you can see, I am not of royal blood.  I was not raised to rule as you were here.  And even so, you are the only remaining son of our deceased king.  Laufey got Mother with child before the conflict… And when she passed in the war, it was assumed the baby perished as well.  It wasn’t until you and your brother snuck into Jötunheim that Laufey knew you were alive.  As he has since been slain…,” she left out the part where it was Loki that _did_ the actual slaying, “ _You_ are our rightful king.”

Loki’s eyes widened as he searched face, hoping earnestly to find trace of a lie.  They shared a mother?  He stumbled back, his porcelain face even paler than usual.  The prince’s chest rose and fell as he processed, gathering his thoughts before he spoke.  His voice was quiet, but fierce.

"How did she die?”

Isla looked to Signe, her brows furrowed into a V.

“Lord Prince—.”

“If you are truly my blood, call me by name.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. 

“Loki,” she said softly.  The name felt foreign on her tongue.  “As I said, she was killed during the war.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the prince saw Odin stiffen in his chair, his single eye blazing as the King looked at his older sister.

Eyes locked on the Allfather, Loki spoke, his voice low and barbarous.

“How?”

Isla faltered, the poor girl’s eyes flicking between Signe and Frigga, desperate for help.

“Loki, my son,” Frigga spoke quietly.  “It was a time of war.  Jötun and Aesir killed indiscriminately.  I cannot express my sorrow that she is gone, my son, but this happened many, many years ago.”

The Prince seethed.

_“How?”_

Signe watched as Odin’s face grew red.  It was unclear if it was from embarrassment or rage.  Regardless, her stomach sank.  The silence in the room could only mean one thing: The killer was present, and it wasn’t Frigga.

“You narcissistic, self-serving excuse for a king.  You said you took me for peace!”

Odin stood abruptly, sending his chair spinning behind him.

“Her death was unfortunate, my son, but I do not regret my actions against the Jötunn,” he said stoically. 

Both Isla and Signe slipped to Loki’s side, afraid he would antagonize the Allfather into attacking.  The four other Frost Giants braced themselves before their King, Queen and Princess Regent, effectively shielding all three.  Signe gaped at how thoughtlessly these men moved to save their king.  _This was not an act._

Loki’s hand was shooting towards his sister’s shoulder to angrily push her away, but Signe intervened.  She didn’t have the strength to block his blow, but she tightly grabbed his free hand and squeezed.

“Stop!”

Everyone in the room froze, thoroughly on edge.

It was Isla that spoke first.

“I am sorry, your Majesty,” she nodded at Odin, “But until it is clear you’re not a threat to my King, my men cannot stand down.  I need your word that he is safe here.”

Face still rosy, Odin nodded abruptly and righted his chair.  He managed to seat himself regally and cleared his throat.  Clearly he was still agitated.  Not only did his adoptive son’s people _seek him out_ , Loki was now his equal as a king.

Confident that her guards would dispose of Odin should he decline to leave his spear where it lay, Isla looked at her male counterparts and indicated they should follow her as she sank to her knees before Loki.

“This… Pleading is not in our nature.  It’s not _my_ nature.  This is not easy for any us.  But I beg you.  Our people… They have known nothing but destruction for so long.  You are the only Frost Giant that has experienced peace, who knows what it is to sleep without fear of not waking.  You alone have the power to wield the Casket and return Jötunheim to what was once our home.”

The prince scoffed.

“Ah, now I understand.  The beasts want the Casket.  Nothing more.  Leave.  You will not have audience with me again, do not bother requesting it.  Goodbye, _sister.”_

Loki turned on his heel and strode form the hall, leaving Signe and his sister standing in shock.  The women looked at one another.  Isla had weary, but honest eyes that longed for guidance and hope.  Signe swallowed hard, glancing at her in-laws before looking back to the princess.

“I will speak with him,” she murmured to the other woman.

Isla closed her eyes and sighed in relief, the tightening in her chest lessening as she nodded in gratitude.

With a confident smile that was half false, Signe rose and followed her husband to their chambers.  She found the man pacing on the balcony of their rooms, holding Njall and speaking to him as if he were an adult fully capable of responding.

“I will not risk my own death, leaving you and your mother vulnerable to attack, or worse, to Odin’s devices.”

Signe raised a brow as she neared him, sticking out her hip and leaning against a pillar. 

“What do you mean your “your own death?”’

Loki looked up in surprise before returning his eyes to their child.  He shook his head in irritation.

“I will not abandon you two in order to rule that chunk of frozen rock.”

Signe huffed indignantly.       

“Loki, you are going.  And we are coming with you.  We are going as a family.”

The prince’s eyes blazed and his hands shook violently enough that he was forced to hand his baby to his wife.

“You will do no such thing.  You will not expose yourself or _my son_ to such an awful, vile people in such a perilous realm.”

“Loki, these are _your son’s_ people too.”

The elder prince had no response. 

Njall kicked his little feet when he heard his name, clapping his pudgy hands together.  He squirmed in Signe’s arms, eager to explore the terrace he was never allowed on to.  She held him tightly, causing him to squawk unhappily.

“He is tired,” she murmured.  “Give me a moment, I’ll summon the nursemaid.”

She held up her hand when Loki began to argue. 

“This conversation is not over.  Stay where you are,” she pointed at his feet.

Returning a few minutes later, she joined Loki on the balcony, twining her hand with his and lifting it to press a kiss against this knuckles.  Signe sighed and leaned against his shoulder.

 “I know you have no affinity for these people, but they are _yours_ whether you want them or not.  And they _need_ you.  Just like Njall and I _need_ you.  Would you abandon _us_ so quickly?”                    

Loki pulled away, stunned.

“You know nothing could keep me from the two of you.  _Nothing_.  Not an army of Dark Elves or a pack of Jötunn scum.”

The princess shook her head sadly and sighed, chewing her lip.

“She wants you for more than the Casket, you know.  She has the same despondent look in her eye that you did before I came back, before we had Njall.  You are her _family,_ Loki.  The only family she has.  Don’t you remember what it was like to be alone?” 

The princess wriggled between the rail and his body, standing on her tiptoes to hold his face between her hands.  She stroked his brow, studying him intently.  Loki made to pull away, but she leaned forward and gently took his lower lip between her teeth and tugged.  She couldn’t help but smile when he growled and forced his mouth against hers, roughly nipping her lip in return.  Signe moaned, clutching at his shoulders as he lifted her onto the railing.  Her legs fell open without a second thought and with one hand on her lower back he used the other to roughly shove her skirts up around her thighs.

“This conversation,” kiss, “is still not,” kiss, “over.”

Loki chuckled against her lips before pushing his tongue into her mouth.  His hips gravitated towards hers, he groaned when he rubbed up against her and could feel the damp from her soaked panties through his trousers.

“Does my being your King excite you, little one?”

Signe nipped at him especially hard, silently refusing his question, but the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from his mouth gave him the true answer.

“There’s a good girl,” he crooned, his mouth against her ear.  “Since we are being so honest, I should share that having you as my Queen inspires similar feeling in myself,” he bit at her earlobe and pressed his erection against her.  Just in case she wasn’t aware he was aroused.

She clawed at clothes, distracted by his hot mouth on her neck.  Amidst the whining and whimpering Signe managed to catch the tie of his trousers and pull it loose, eagerly sinking her hand beneath the fabric.  She cupped her husband in her hand, squeezing gently and stroking him as he hissed.

With a growl Loki yanked her from the railing, concerned that she would render him incapable of thinking clearly and cause him to drop her.  He knelt to the floor and pulled her along with him, settling his wife on top, her legs spread as he steadied her on her knees.  Frantically she pulled at the ties of her dress, while Loki merely pushed the offending garment over her clenching thighs and wrestled her panties to the side, slipping a finger, then two into her while he was in the vicinity.  Signe’s head fell back as she gasped, rocking her hips so she could fuck herself on his hand.

“Mmm, my little minx.  Do you remember when you first came to me?  So pure and untouched.”

She moaned in assent, absent mindedly nodding her head as his fingers pumped inside her.  Loki intentionally teased her, making sure his palm stayed away from her clit and only thrusting to the first knuckle.  With a grunt Signe blindly reached for his wrist, holding it still so she could thrust herself properly against his fingers.  Her husband’s breath hitched, and even with her eyes closed (he lids were far too heavy to bother opening) she smirked.

“My good, good little peach,” he murmured as he watched his wife.  Once he drank his fill, he crooked the two fingers and thrust them in time with her hips, causing her lips to part and her head to fall back.

“Does that feel good?”

The answer she gave him was an unintelligible mumble of a single syllable, but he knew what she meant.  He plunged into her briskly and he felt her walls clamp around him as she cried out, flooding his hand with moisture.  Signe braced herself against his chest with her palms flat, cheeks pinked and chest heaving.  She loved that even when she sat astride him, it was still very much Loki that was in charge.

Dazedly she reached for his cock, but her hands were too unsteady and he pushed them away.  She rose on shaky knees as he lined the blunt tip up with her opening, and then savored the feeling of sinking down over him.  This time, they both moaned, Loki’s hand guiding her to rise on her knees.  She looked at him questioningly when he wouldn’t let her thrust down against him.  When he bent his knees to use the ground as leverage to thrust up into her, she gasped. 

“Again,” she choked.

With a devious grin, Loki obliged.  He began pistoning his hips against his wife’s, basking in the carnal slap of skin as he took her.  The woman’s pussy never ceased its pulsing, the aftershocks of her first orgasm smoothly turned into another as her husband bucked his hips up into her.  She had been quiet during the first, but for the second she screamed, her cries echoing off the stone terrace and likely waking those that slept below them.  Signe’s vision went white and her cunt contracted over his length, and Loki began grunting and growling with each thrust.  He squeezed her thighs tightly as her knees threatened to give out, and somehow she managed to steady herself as he found completion, gripping the back of her neck and crushing his mouth against hers as he came.

Signe didn’t have the energy to roll off her husband.  Instead, she lay her head against Loki’s heaving chest, using a slender finger to draw imaginary designs against him.  Holding Signe to him, the elder Prince sighed and opened his eyes, looking up at the sky in thought.       

“Odin will not just _give up_ the casket.  You know how heavily he guards it.”

She smiled against his tunic.  He was always so much more agreeable after sex.

“But your mother would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated, lovelies.


	4. Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time Isla was reminded she was an auntie and everyone was angsty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Isla as having a pretty severe resting bitch face, just an FYI.
> 
> Normally I'd let your imaginations go wild, but the way I picture the Frost Giants is pretty different from the movies and more like the comics. This is how I picture [Isla](https://s31.postimg.org/7jiphl0gr/Jotun_Woman3.jpg). I apologize profusely to the artist who deserves credit, but I don't know their name.

That morning while Loki was out for a ride, Signe quietly invited Isla to meet.  Though her husband began the _process_ of warming up to the idea of helping the Jötuns, it would still take many conversations and bedroom melees to solidify a plan of action.  Signe thought it best to meet with her sister-in-law in private, without the distraction and growling of her husband.  The two princesses gathered in the sitting room of Loki and Signe’s chambers, as it was least likely to be disturbed.

A servant poured both women tea before curtsying and leaving them alone.  While Signe added milk and honey to hers, Isla picked up the drink sniffed it.  She made a face and immediately set it down, hissing as some liquid sloshed over the lip of the cup and onto her fingers.  Her skin steamed and she held her hand to her chest.

“Oh, my apologies.  It did not occur to me that you may not drink tea,” Signe said with slight blush.

“My kind has no need for a beverage so hot.  It would only harm us.”  She paused and examined her nails.  “Frivolities such as flavored drinks have been absent from our culture since the war.”

 “Would you like something—.”

“No, thank you.  There are far more important matters than domesticities at hand.”

Signe nodded sheepishly.

“Before Loki returns, I want to understand exactly what we will be walking into upon journeying to Jötunheim.  Please, Princess Isla, be frank.  I want to know the truth.”

The giantess nodded uncomfortably and glanced at her hands, clenching them into fists.

“The Casket that Odin stole,” her voice was low with anger, “was a source of power.  Yes, it could destroy worlds, and yes, Laufey’s greed and desire to take over Midgard was… regretful, but it is so much more than a weapon.”

The blonde princess raised a brow, clearly not pleased with the amount of emphasis put on the attempt to eradicate the human race.  She nodded anyway.

“Go on, please.”

Isla hesitated and rose anxiously.  Slowly she began to scale the wall like a caged animal, wringing her slender hands.  She went from painting to painting, eyes focused on each but her stare was empty, as if she couldn’t pay attention to what was in front of her.  Cracking her knuckles, Isla glanced back at Signe.

“The situation at home is… not promising.”

She fiddled with the broach on her dress, clearly uncomfortable admitting her planet’s vulnerability before the Aesir woman.  With a sigh, the giantess squared her shoulders.  Her proud, regal air was still present, but there was an additional aspect of malice that reminded Signe very much of Loki.

“Odin stole our way of life.  It was a tool for chaos, but it was also our food source.  Without it, Jötunheim is uninhabitable.  Our animals have died off almost completely, we are unable to grow crops.  The entire planet is wasting away because of the Aesir,” she said icily.

Gone was the girl who inherited a barren kingdom that was never meant for her to rule.  In her place stood an angry warrior, staring at Signe as though the blonde princess herself had taken the Casket.

Signe stood as well, watching the other princess pace.

“What Odin did was wrong.  I don’t deny that.  But the only way we are going to get the Casket from him is by convincing the Allfather that the power will be used responsibly, safely.” 

Isla turned, a brow cocked.

“When it comes to Odin, Loki… He cannot keep a cool head.  That leaves the two of us.  Frigga will do what she can, but Princess, if you cannot remain composed when we speak with him of the Casket, we will not succeed and the relic will never make it back to Jötunheim.”

After a moment of searching Signe’s face, the blue woman pursed her lips and nodded.  A knock on the door indicated lunch was to be served.

The servants lay out a grand spread of sandwiches, fruits and cheeses.  As Signe went to sit at the table, she motioned for Isla to do the same.  The other woman shook her head, though she eyed the food with such desire that Signe could practically feel the woman’s mouth water.

“Please, eat,” she invited.

“Did… Have my men been fed?”

Signe shook her head with confusion.

“They are standing guard outside your doors.  I will not dine until they have eaten,” the blue woman said sternly.

Signe drummed her fingers on the table in thought as she looked at the arrangement on the table.  The servants left only two plates, but the array of cheeses were displayed on a large tray.  She stood and pushed the slices onto a plate and filled the empty tray with sandwiches and fruit.

“I did not realize they weren’t dining with the rest of the castle.  Thank you for saying something.”

Isla was abrupt, but Signe didn’t think she intended to be rude.  She was simply looking after the wellbeing of her people.  Though she regretted Isla’s men had not been fed, she had to bite her tongue to keep from apologizing.  Doing so would surely show weakness in this woman’s eyes.  Isla was so much like her brother.

Signe took the tray to the men herself, grabbing a small folding table on her way.  When they initially refused, concerned the distraction would compromise the safety of their princess, Signe bullied them into taking a break.

“Lady Isla faces no threat inside my chambers, I assure you.  Now, feed yourselves.”

Eventually she coaxed the guards into eating.  After Isla mentioning it, Signe noted the men looked very, very thin.  Having never seen a Frost Giant in person, the day prior Signe assumed that they were simply lithe beings.  She realized as she spotted the faint outline of their ribs beneath their armor that despite living in the castle, which would typically have stores of food, the men were still affected by the famine. 

As she spun and made her way back to the sitting room, she heard a muffled wail.  With a sigh she trotted to Njall’s room and scooped the sleepy baby into her arms.  She sang softly and bounced him as she returned to Isla.

“Your men have been fed,” she assured the other woman as she took her seat, idly rubbing Njall’s back as he fussed.

With a relieved sigh, Isla dug into her food, though she kept a wary eye on the baby.  Signe chucked.

 “I take it you don’t have children?”

“Of course not.  I am unmarried.”

Signe nodded with a smile as she handed tiny bits of food to Njall’s searching hands.  Just as she began eating herself, a brutish snarl echoed from the entrance, followed by a crash that caused her to drop her sandwich.  Signe quickly rose and deposited Njall in Isla’s arms.  She knew a Loki tantrum when she heard it.  Signe turned and ran for the door.

“Stay there,” she yelled at her sister-in-law.

Isla was left staring at the child as she listened to Signe and Loki’s muffled argument.  Holding the toddler at arm’s length, she stared at him with the horror of someone who had no idea what to do with a baby.  She could only blink at her nephew.  Isla had caught glimpses of the child, but had yet to see or experience him up close. 

He was beautiful.  A puff of black hair, deep amber irises, chubby little cheeks, and porcelain skin that shone with an opalescent hue of blue that matched her own.  Njall looked her in the eye and spoke in a string of nonsense, then stretched out an arm and repeatedly opened and closed his little fist in a grabbing motion at the sparkling pin on her gown. 

“No.  That is not yours.  You may not have it,” she told him sternly.

“No,” he repeated, then shrieked excitedly and continued his babble.  When he arched his back and reached to grab the broach, the poor princess almost dropped him as he squirmed.

“Stop moving,” she implored.

It was at that moment that an arguing Signe and Loki barreled into the room, wife trying to herd husband into the corner furthest from Isla.  Over Signe’s shoulder Loki caught a glimpse of Njall in Isla’s arms.  His eyes widened as his lip curled.

“Get away from him!”

The prince’s roar echoed throughout the entire collection of rooms.

A helpless Isla held the child even further away from her body, her eyes wide.

“Loki! I _invited_ her!  _And_ I asked Isla to hold him so I could deal with _you!_ ”

Both women could’ve sworn the prince growled.  When he turned to Signe, she took a surprised step back.  Her husband was _livid_ ; his eyes almost feral.  She closed the gap between herself and Isla and took her child from the other woman.  Linking an arm with the princess’, Signe quickly ushered her to the door, aiding in her escape from Loki’s ire.  When the giantess’ bare skin touched Singe’s, the blue woman gasped and pushed her away.

"Don’t touch me, you’ll burn!”          

Signe frowned in confusion.  When she didn’t cry out in pain, Isla grabbed Signe’s wrist and examined her hand, looking to Loki in confusion.

“Why is she unaffected?  She should be frostbitten by the cold, as should the baby,” she realized.

Signe looked to her husband, still fuming at the giantess near his child.  After a moment the question sank in and the irate look in his eye dissipated slightly.

Loki coughed. 

“Perhaps it is because she has had a Frost Giant inside her—.”

“What I think my husband means is that perhaps after bearing a Jötun child, it’s possible that my body adapted an immunity to the cold,” Signe cut in, rolling her eyes at Loki.  “And Njall himself is part Frost Giant which is why you didn’t harm him.  Does that sound feasible?”

The siblings stared at one another, sizing the other up with matching scowls.  After a moment, each nodded.

Rubbing Njall’s back more for her comfort than his, she studied the two.  Loki was in no mood to talk.  He had calmed down, but when he was like this even the smallest thing could set him off.

“Isla, thank you for meeting with me, I have a much better understanding of your situation.  I’ll share what you’ve told me with my husband tonight, and hopefully we can work out a plan tomorrow.”

With one last spiteful glare at Loki, Isla nodded and left without another word.  Signe watched her go and took a moment to gather her thoughts.  This was not going to be a pretty conversation with her husband.

Before she could say a word, Loki advanced on her, backing her up against a wall.  She held Njall to her tightly.

“If you are going to yell, at least let me give him to his nurse.  There is no reason he needs to hear this.”

The man glowered but nodded.  Signe left the room to call.  He heard her murmuring to their baby as they waited, and it made his chest tighten.  When he returned to his rooms to find four Frost Giants outside, he lost it.  He wanted them nowhere near his family.  Then, to discover Isla holding Njall… He just saw red.  How dare Signe endanger both of their lives?

He stalked from the sitting room and sat in an elaborate arm chair near the blazing hearth in front of their bed, his impossibly long legs splayed open.  He heard the exchange between the nurse and Signe, who instructed that he stay with staff for the evening.  The servant made a noise of assent and the door clicked closed. 

Signe stood with her back against the wooden panels.  Hesitating, she walked to her husband’s side and put a hand on his.

“Loki, we have to speak with Odin.  The Casket needs to ret—.”

The man yanked her over the arm of the chair so that she sat sidesaddle in his lap.  With a yelp, she clung to his shoulders for balance.  Immediately his hands began roaming her body.  She slapped them away.

“Loki, this is a _serious_ conversation that we need to have.”

“Mhmm,” he muttered, simply trying to pacify her as he tore at the laces of her gown and tossed them to the floor, quickly followed by her undergarments.

“Stop!”

Loki ignored her and slid her so that she straddled him while pushing her gown from her body.  He looked her in the eye as he captured both of her wrists in one hand, causing her to wince.

“You always want to give yourself to me, little peach.  Do you feel the same when I’m rough with you?  Do you still want me to take you as I’d like?”

Signe stared him down and nodded with false confidence.  She searched his eyes for the man she loved, but saw only the possessive, greedy child who had just bound her hands with manacles that looked like iron snakes.

“You won’t scare me.”  This was partially untrue.  She was frightened, her heart pounding in her chest.  But he couldn’t scare her _away_ , and that’s what really mattered.  She’d never leave him, no matter how petulant he acted.

"As you wish.”

Loki stood, dumping his wife on the floor.  She fell without grace, as her hands were cuffed together when she crumpled to the ground.  She glared at him, her eyes stinging with tears.  Just because she didn’t run from him didn’t mean she couldn’t get angry about his treatment.

When he bent and reached for the chain linking her cuffs, she held still, grunting as he roughly pulled her to her feet.  Loki dragged her to the wall and raised her arms, hooking the chain over a light fixture which effectively shoved her chest forward and forced her on her tiptoes. 

"Still not afraid?”

Signe stubbornly shook her head as she balanced.

“I’ll never run away from you, Loki.”

“Fine, little wife.  Clearly I’m not trying hard enough.”

He stood back to admire Signe’s naked form.  Her hips were curvier after Njall, and her breasts were still larger.  He sighed in appreciation, palming himself through his trousers.

“I did do rather well for myself, did I?”

He looked at Signe expectantly.  Apparently he wanted a response.

“Yes, Loki.  You have a son that adores you and a wife that loves you.  You know these things.”

He lunged forward, roughly gripping her chin in his hand.

“Then tell me.  Why would my loving wife place our darling child, the baby she claims care so much about, in the hands of our enemy?  Why would she invite such brutes to _dine_ with her in my chambers?”

Signe narrowed her eyes at him.  She ignored the slight, accusing her of not caring for Njall.  Both knew that was untrue, he was just trying to hurt her.

“Your sister is not our enemy, Loki.”

Loki tilted his head, considering her as he cupped her breast, causing her to gasp.  Composing herself, she stumbled on her toes to move away from him, but instead tripped and caused her manacled arms to support her weight.  She hissed, quickly righting herself, but this also put her chest back in Loki’s hands.

She huffed as he thumbed her nipple, watching entranced as it grew hard.  His hands slid to grasp her bottom and her back as he knelt forward, taking the bud into his mouth.  Signe couldn’t help but drop her head back and moan.  She knew she was only encouraging him, but as his tongue laved against her sensitive nipple she cared less and less about the behavior she was condoning.

Loki took another step towards her, shoving his thigh between her legs and relieving her arms from the strain of holding her up.  This, of course, also pressed her embarrassingly wet core against his thigh, making them both groan.

“I have a feeling I could do whatever I wanted with you, little peach, and it would still make you wet,” he growled against her ear.  She wriggled in his grasp, not intending to actually go anywhere, but simply attempting to make his life slightly more difficult.

He tilted her chin with his fingers.

“Is that true?”

Refusing to answer him, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, licking a line from her collarbone to her ear.  

She shuddered and begged her body to keep her hips still.  She longed to rock back and forth over his clothed thigh, searching for some sort of relief from the throbbing and tightening between her legs.  Perhaps then she would be able to think clearly… Because when her husband took her like this, she had a very, very difficult time not just melting into his hands. 

The prince gripped her hips in both hands and forced her to undulate her hips, earning himself a whimpered moan.

“Mmm, good girl,” he crooned against her neck.  She felt him marking her, his lips sealing over her skin and sucking uncomfortably hard as he worked.  He was staking a claim, announcing to all of Asgard _and_ Jötunheim that Signe belonged to him.  She was not their princess, she was his.

“Loki that hurts,” she whined softly.

“It hurts, does it?”  He chuckled.  “Are you asking me to stop?”

The question was whispered against her ear.

Chewing her lip, she shook her head stubbornly.  If he needed to mark her to get over his resistance to helping Jötunheim, then so be it.  Loki groaned as she gave an obstinate thrust of her hips, grinding her cunt against him wantonly.

“Did you need something, then?”

When she growled at him, he laughed like a delighted child.

“Fuck me,” his princess hissed.

“Gladly.”

With speed only magic could explain, the laces of his trousers loosened and they fell to the floor around his ankles.  He kicked them aside and hoisted Signe off the ground, his strong arms grasping her by the thighs.  Both moaned when she rubbed herself against him, leaving a streak of shining slick on his belly.

“Hold,” he grunted, wrestling with her hips, “still so I,” he grunted again and smacked her fleshy rear as she squirmed, “can bury my cock inside you properly.”  He groaned low in his throat as he thrust home, feeling some semblance of peace for the first time since the Jötun arrived.

Nudging her chin up at him with his nose, Loki pressed his mouth over hers as he began to pump his hips.  Both moaned into one another as Signe squeezed her thighs around him, much as if she were on a horse.  She crossed her ankles behind his back and pulled her husband to her, sighing blissfully as he paused, buried in her to the hilt.  They kissed with equal fervor as she tensed her stomach muscles and canted her hips at him.

Loki grunted against her mouth, biting at her lip and then soothing the sting with his tongue.  Their teeth clashed as he forced her to unhook from behind him and instead gripped her himself.  The prince reared back, forcing his shaft back into Signe with a satisfyingly wet sound.  Her head dropped to his shoulder as she panted, obediently taking each brutal thrust her prince gave her.  They both needed this.  He’d felt betrayed by her and the only way she could prove to him that she’d never do such a thing was with her body connected to his. 

“I want to touch you,” she whimpered.

Deep down, Loki could never _truly_ refuse Signe anything.  He may huff and puff and fuck her up against the wall, but at the end of the day, he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.  He snapped his fingers and her chains vanished, dropping her into his arms.  Loki started carrying her to the bed but she flexed her pelvic muscles around him and he lost it.  Slamming her back against the wall, he rut at her like an animal, his hips rhythmless but powerful.

Signe cried out, her nails breaking skin as she clung to him, fucking him back to the best of her ability.  The tauntingly tight coil in her lower belly snapped free and she came over his cock, screaming into his neck as wave after wave of throbbing pleasure washed over her.

Loki wasted no time and immediately followed his wife, spilling his seed deep in her pulsing pussy.

Several rooms away, Njall’s nurse chuckled at the echoed shouts and shook her head as she lay the baby down.  Quietly she shut his door and exited through the servant’s door, as to not disrupt the panting couple.


	5. I Can't Take It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time everyone went to Jötunheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give up on titles. In an effort not to be confusing, I'm going to bypass crowning ceremonies etc etc etc and when in Jötunheim, Loki and Signe are King and Queen. Jötuns, including Isla, defer to them etc.
> 
> So:  
> (Odin, Frigga, King/Queen, I'll specify Asgard if I refer to them as such)  
> Isla-Princess  
> Loki-King  
> Signe-Queen  
> Njall-Prince
> 
> Unless I've royally effed that up, in which case you lovelies will let me know because you're smart.

It took Signe days to convince Loki he needed to visit Jötunheim with her and Isla.  The meetings were broken up by several lengthy bedroom interludes, as just when Loki was about to decide in her favor, he found a reason not to leave Asgard.  His sister implored the couple survey the state of the realm, to see for themselves the starvation as well as the violence resulting from hostility caused by famine.  Loki needed to see first-hand what his home planet was reduced to without the Casket.

Once fitted with proper clothing and given supplies for their trip, Signe, Loki and Isla found themselves arguing in the throne room.

“Jötunheim is no place for a child, Loki.”

The prince’s eyes narrowed.

“Do not presume to tell me how to care for my son, _sister_.  You have no right to influence decisions when it comes to my family.”

Isla turned away from him before promptly rolling her eyes.

“As you wish,” she muttered over her shoulder.

Signe approached her husband and gently grasped his arm.

“Loki, I understand you don’t want to leave him behind.  I’ll miss him too.  But your mother promised to watch him _herself_.  You know how much Frigga adores him; she would never let anything happen.  He’ll be safe here.”

Loki pursed his lips into a thin line and glanced at his child.  The boy held firmly onto Frigga’s index finger as he led her around the room.  Her soft laughter echoed as he babbled, as he showed the Queen that which interested him, which was most everything on his eye level.

“I will not leave him,” Loki said darkly.

Signe knew the expression on his face, and there was no use in arguing.  She was anxious of bringing Njall into Jötunheim, but with her entire being she trusted her husband to keep him safe.  Nothing would happen to their child while Loki was with him.  The Princess looked apologetically at the Jötun.

“Isla, Njall comes with us.  I know it’s not ideal, but Loki will not leave him.”

“He’s only going to get in the way.  Loki is more a child than the baby is,” grumbled the giantess.

Signe had to hide her grin.

x

Njall squirmed excitedly as he was secured into a pack on Loki’s back.  The baby was hardly recognizable; he was dressed in a tiny suit made of furs and rich fabrics.  Loki insisted on enchanting it with an additional warming spell, just in case.  Only the toddler’s round, whiskey colored eyes were visible between his hood and scarf.  When on the ground, he waddled like a penguin, tottling unsteadily on his little booted feet.

Loki wore his traditional armor, as it was warm enough to keep the Frost Giant comfortable in the Jötun cold.  Isla, who had arrived in clothes unbefitting a princess due to the state of her realm, had been re-outfitted into a regal fur cloak, blouse and riding trousers.  Signe, on the other hand, did not look nearly as dignified.  Like Njall, she was packed into a bundle of furs with clumsy boots that she already detested.  The poor girl needed help onto her horse, for she was dressed in so many layers she could barely move properly.

Once mounted, the royal couple, the giantess and her four guards rode across the Rainbow Bridge, where Heimdall oversaw their safe passage to Jötunheim.

x

Once on Jötunheim, the journey to the castle was not a pleasant one.  Even Loki was humbled by the realm racked with destitution, his normally snide commentary nearly silent.  The rural areas were completely abandoned, icy fields barren.  Built into the mountains and jagged pillars of frozen earth, empty huts, houses and paddocks littered the iceland.  Aside from the rare flock of birds, there was no wildlife to be seen.  Open water hardened into solid ice for miles, preventing marine life from surfacing to breathe, and therefore keeping the food supply even further out of reach of the Jötun people.

As they entered the city, numerous buildings blocked some of the wind, but the strong gusts burned Signe’s cheeks badly enough that the group was forced to stop.  After scolding her for not asking they halt sooner, Loki conjured a scarf that better protected his wife’s delicate Aesir skin.  The parents checked on their sleeping, bundled child before Loki lifted Signe back into her saddle and they continued on their way.

Approaching the palace, Signe’s heart sank.  Flocks of people stood outside the gates begging for food or supplies.  Men, women, children; everyone was suffering.  As they neared the entrance, the travelers caught the attention of those begging.  They approached en masse, pleading for something to eat. 

Despite significantly lacking mobility, Signe managed to slide off her horse and approached the crowd.  She took the provisions her castle staff had packed and handed them out, unintentionally creating chaos because it was impossible for the food and water to be distributed equally throughout the massive group. 

“Come, my Queen.  We must ride to the castle,” urged Isla.

Loki dismounted and, glaring at his wife for endangering herself, helped her back onto her horse.

Signe saw Isla glance at the mob once more, and her face flickered with grief before she took a breath and lifted her chin.  The Princess resumed her haughty, regal air that reminded Signe so much of her husband.  The Queen, as she apparently was in Jötunheim, watched the blue woman swallow hard, clearly upset by her starving people despite her cool façade.  She rode on, looking straight ahead.

x

Weary from travel, Princess, Queen, King and baby Prince retired for the evening with plans to convene in the morning.  After bidding one another goodnight, Signe, Loki and Njall were shown to their quarters.  The couple refused to exchange rooms with Isla, who held the royal chambers, especially as nothing regarding their status as monarchs was official.  Their rooms were much simpler, but comfortable.

A bassinette stood in the corner, and after feeding, bathing and changing Njall Loki put his son to bed.  Still concerned about the temperatures, he enchanted the little bed to mimic the climate of Asgard, which he knew suited his son.  Inspired, perhaps, by the landscape and the people, Loki hesitated before pointing his index finger above the baby and cautiously, as he’d never intentionally used his Jötun powers, created a mobile made of ice.  Njall cooed and reached for the toy, only to surprise them both when his finger erupted into a tiny frozen, blue shard.  His father, eyes wide in shock, gently waved his hand over his son’s and his finger returned to normal.  The King had yet to embrace his own Jötun heritage, how was he going to encourage his son?

Signe startled him when she wrapped her arms around her husband from behind, resting her cheek against his back.

“He’s done it before, I just didn’t want to worry you,” she admitted quietly.

Loki grumbled, annoyed that the change had been hidden from him.  Abruptly he tugged his wife around to face him, and held her close as they watched their sleepy son together.  Eager for a moment to bask in her husband’s relatively rare affections, Signe lay her head on his chest.  As the baby’s eyes slowly closed, the parents readied themselves for bed.

x

When Signe woke, it was because the room was cold.  Freezing.  Evidently she hadn’t worn enough layers to sleep.  Despite her husband’s skin being cool to the touch, Signe curled against him in search of warmth.  Kinetic energy was good enough for her.  She draped a leg over his, nestling her core against his thigh.  With a satisfied groan she rolled her hips, effectively grinding herself against his cool flesh.  When he didn’t wake, she simply kept thrusting against him, working herself up into a tizzy as her need grew.

She gasped when fingers buried themselves in her hair, her husband dragging her mouth to his.  Sleepily he sucked at her lower lip, running his tongue along it until Signe arched, deepening the kiss.  It was her tongue that breached his mouth, tracing along his teeth until he sucked the muscle into his mouth.  Loki rolled on top of her, cupping her jaw to force her still as he took control of her lips.  He dragged his hand down until it came to rest on the diamond and emerald collar she wore around her neck.  Though the circumstances under which he’d gifted it were very different than they were now, the overall message of the piece was the same: she was Loki’s. 

Her husband’s possessiveness used to frighten her, and sometimes it still did.  He turned so feral so quickly, he was difficult to control, let alone to predict his behavior.  Now, however, to her embarrassment, it was a turn on.  The look he got in his eye when another man spoke with her was absolutely murderous, and when they were alone afterwards the way he took her ended in some of the most intense orgasms she’d ever had.  The prince would carelessly run his hands over her in public, despite her superficial objections.  In the moment, it was truly bothersome and she feared for her reputation at times, but often his behavior persisted until he got her alone and when he found how impossibly wet she was, she could never meet his eye.  He loved it.  He adored knowing his wife loved being his, and that she became aroused when he displayed ownership.  Signe had never taken off the necklace, and Loki never got sick of seeing her wear it.

Even when they were alone, Loki continuously reminded her who she belonged to.  Often he’d bite her; she had a scar on her neck from a particularly deep mark he’d given her that she made him conceal whenever they were outside their bedroom.  At his insistence, she agreed to drop the glamour when they were alone, but only then.  It wouldn’t do for all of Asgard (and Jötunheim) to see how he’d marked her.

His fingers played with the jewelry as he laved at the mark with his tongue, tracing the raised skin and making her shiver.  Clutching at the back of his neck, Signe moaned and tilted her head back to give him even better access.  He growled against her, gently biting at the blemish, though not hard enough to break the skin. 

His wife wriggled beneath him, making him grunt as she spread her legs and cradled his thigh between them once more.  When she resumed her grinding, Loki rumbled at her throat and pushed off of her, causing Signe to whimper in disappointment when she could no longer rub against him.  He chuckled, looking down at her.

“I heard talk that after childbirth, women lose interest in their husbands.”  He lowered his mouth to her ear, “If anything, having Njall has made you even more wonton,” he whispered.

Signe blushed and defiantly thrust her hips, making him laugh at her flustered, frustrated state.  He unlaced his sleeping trousers (that she insisted he wear as they were no longer in the comfort of their own chambers) and pulled his hardening length out.  Immediately his wife parted her soft thighs in invitation, and canted her hips, causing him to chuckle all the more.

“Shhh, little peach, I’ll make it better,” he husked against her cheek.  Nodding that she understood, the girl held herself still as Loki drug the head of his cock against her slick slit.  She wasn’t able to hold back the moan, or to keep from arching her back once the blunt tip dragged against her clit.

“Please,” she whined softly.

Loki grunted.  Clearly this was not a night he could deny her.  He reared back, then surged forward with enough force that they both cried out.  Signe obediently lay still, panting already as the Prince steeled himself.  After a moment, he planted a hand on either side of her head, looking down at her as he began to roll his hips.  Signe’s eyes slipped closed in bliss as she savored the feeling of him slowly sliding into her, then pulling out at an even lazier pace.  It was her turn to lean up and bite at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, which only made him chuckle, but he obliged the poor girl beneath him and quickened his rhythm. 

Signe let her head fall back in ecstasy and Loki chose that moment to pull back and lift her leg, bracing it against his chest so her foot was over her shoulder.  She groaned and arched at the deepened penetration, emitting a small huff when she realized the position rendered her even more powerless.  Loki held her firmly as he began to snap his hips, causing the poor girl’s jaw to drop open in pleasure.

Still, she tried to thrust her hips, and Loki was forced to wrap his arm around her thigh and splay his palm across her belly, holding her in place.  Signe whimpered in protest, but was far too gone to do anything more than whine. 

Her husband’s pace and force increased enough that the headboard started clattering against the wall, but neither cared.  As if the echoes of wood on stone gave her permission to make noise of her own, Signe’s cries grew louder and higher.  She murmured nonsense, begging for more and harder and faster, all of which Loki happily gave her.  At one point she became lucid enough to cover her mouth with her hand, but without missing a beat her husband wrenched it away and pinned it to the bed.

“You know the rules,” he panted.  This was true, she did know she was not allowed to silence herself, but she was simply trying to be a conscientious guest.  She supposed that if this was to become her home, she could scream as loudly as she wanted.  So, she let loose as Loki rammed against her with a little extra power.  Her entire body to tingled as pressure built in her belly and her toes began to curl as everything else but her husband thrusting his cock into her throbbing cunt floated away.  Blindly she reached for him, needing some type of anchor as he broke her apart.  He leaned forward, pressing her thigh against her chest and cradled her head, whispering adoring obscenities into her ear as the heat inside her erupted into waves and bliss.

As she squeezed and pulsed around him, Loki’s speed doubled and he rolled his hips with abandon until he found his own release, accompanied by a yelled string of expletives that echoed throughout their room.

Loki rolled off and Signe giggled in humiliation and bliss, turning to bury her face in his shoulder.

“Well, in case there was any doubt, the castle has officially been christened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't make me panhandle for feedback, I'm not cute when I whine.


	6. On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time there was a cave romp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The modernity and equality of the marriage is taking a few steps back, but for the sake of smut, I say bring it on.

The next morning, Isla took the couple on a tour of the city with Njall strapped safely on Loki’s back.  Plump snowflakes fell from the sky, covering the entire city in a wet dusting of snow.  Blowing wind was hampered by the houses, allowing Signe to withstand the blustery, overcast day.  As they trekked through the snow, they came upon a small neighborhood of towering houses.

The affluent areas of the city were immediately outside the castle gates, but even their opulence was dampened by the eternal winter cast upon the planet.  It appeared as though most of the families now co-inhabited only several houses.  Each footstep crunched loudly in the frozen snow, drew the attention of a young boy.  He peaked through his door, dressed in what once was finery, but now resembled rags.  He stared at the trio as they passed, paying special attention to the bundled baby.  His little voice echoed against the stone and ice the dwelling spaces were made of.

“Why is it so small?”

Loki and Isla stared straight ahead, refusing to engage with the boy.  Isla simply because at some point, he would ask for food that she didn’t have to give, and Loki because he was Loki.  Signe, on the other hand, naively stopped and slid off her horse to approach the boy.  He watched her suspiciously, eyes widening as he caught a glimpse of her fair skin and hazel eyes from beneath her furs.

“Why are you so small?  And white!”

Signe chuckled as she approached the boy who stood as tall as her.

“I’m visiting from Asgard.  Have you heard of it?”

He nodded, studying her face with interest.

“Do they have food there?”

Signe felt a pang of guilt.  Reluctantly she nodded.

“They do.  But we’re going to bring food here to Jötunheim too.”

At the mention of food, several more eager children trickled from the house and stood behind the older boy.  A little girl, young enough that she was shorter than Signe, leaned against the doorframe.

“It never lasts.  The food always runs out.”  Her tone accused Signe of providing the Jötunn with false hope.

The Queen steeled herself for a moment.  Realistically, it was possible Odin would not allow the Casket to return to Jötunheim.  Signe would fight tooth and nail to return it to its rightful realm, but the mission was not without pitfalls.

“In Asgard, I am a Princess, and a bossy one at that.  It’s rare I don’t get what I want,” she said with a wink.  “I promise I will do everything in my power to bring food to Jötunheim.  Permanently,” she added.

The little girl’s face was still sour, but the other children looked hopeful. 

x

The snow continued as they rode on.  On their way to the fields, darker clouds blew in rapidly.  Isla looked up, scowling at the sky.

"We need to find shelter.  Now.”

Loki raised a brow and looked at the snow.

“She’s Aesir, but she’s not _that_ weak. 

“We can keep riding, but she’ll die if we do,” Isla offered with a casual shrug, motioning at Signe.

Loki glared at his sister.

“I see nothing but snow.  Where, pray tell, is the fatality in that?”

The Princess shook her head.

“The snow isn’t worrisome.  The ice storm is.”

Now, she had Loki’s attention.  He followed her gaze to the blackening sky and his eyes widened.  It was rare that Loki panicked.  Incredibly rare.  Little interested him enough to cause distress in times of trouble.  However, with his half-Aesir baby strapped to his back and his vulnerable wife exposed to the cold, his brows furrowed in fear.

"Find us shelter.” 

Isla tilted her head to the side, staring at him.  

“Please, sister.”  Loki’s expression was earnest. 

Isla’s chest tightened as she witnessed first-hand the love her brother had for his wife and child.  For the few years she had known him, Laufey had never been cold to her, but he also rarely showed his step-daughter affection.  She’d never had family to love and care about like the King did.  She longed to one day share such a rapport with her brother.  Even if he was a dolt.

The Princess cleared her throat and pointed to a cavernous ridge.

“Ice storms are brutal for us.  They’re deadly for non-Jötunn.  The caves are her best chance at survival.”

Without a word, Loki nodded and immediately nudged his horse into a gallop.  Isla rolled her eyes at his dramatic antics, but joined Signe in following him.  Once they were several hundred feet from the caverns, they walked the panting horses the rest of the way. 

Earth tone rock shot out from the ground, the majority of which was slick with ice and freshly fallen snow.  They were forced to dismount, should one of the horses slip and crush the rider.  Though the pillars of ice and stone lessened the gusts, when the snow turned to prickly ice and shards that gradually grew in size, Loki felt a pang of gratitude towards his sister as they neared the entrance of the caves.  He tried blocking Signe from the stinging gusts with his body, but when Njall began to howl he opted to scoop his wife off her feet and sprint the rest of the way.

Isla tethered the horses near the mouth of the cave, while Signe dug through their packs for something to feed the baby.  Handing the food and Njall off to Loki, the Queen fussed with making a fire.  As a noblewoman and now royalty, she had no idea what she was doing.  When Isla walked over with a raised brow, Signe threw her hands in the air in defeat.  She pointed at the sticks and flint.

“Do you know how to do these?”

The Princess smirked and nodded, taking over as Signe went to her husband and son.  When bits of meat and cheese began flying across the cavern, it was clear dinnertime for the child was over.  Signe cleaned him up and ensured that the baby was unscathed from the storm, and then went about putting him to sleep in a makeshift cradle concocted by her husband.

Loki took the moment to call over his sister once Signe was out of earshot.

“Isla,” he said, starting to gesture with his hands before faltering and letting them fall to his sides.

“Thank you,” he offered awkwardly.

Isla wasn’t going to let him off that easily,

“Thank you for what?”  Her tone was innocent, but the satisfied look on her face suggested she simply wanted additional gratitude.

Loki grit his teeth.  “Thank you for finding us shelter and keeping Signe and Njall safe.”

Haughty air challenged by his sincerity, Isla absent mindedly ground the toe of her boot into the ground, looking at the dirt floor rather than her brother.

“Er, you’re welcome.”

Both stood awkwardly for a moment, neither looking the other in the eye.  Loki cleared his throat.

“Well then.”

His sister nodded.  “I’ll um, go see to the fire.”

“See that you do.”

She rolled her eyes, tromped over to the small fire and took a seat.  Picking up a stick, she poked at the burning wood in boredom.

The Princess glanced up when she heard a giggle and a shriek.

“That tickles!”

“Hold still,” Loki growled.

He was unpacking Signe from the mountain of furs covering her body, and while doing so checking every inch of her skin for damage.  Her cheeks and the tips of her ears were frostnipped, but as he ran his hands over her flank and thighs, down to her calves, he seemed to relax when he found that she was otherwise unscathed.  The King knelt and picked up one of her feet, almost causing her to topple over if she hadn’t grabbed his shoulder for support as he inspected her toes for frozen tissue.  He repeated the same act on the other foot. 

Once thoroughly excavated, his wife was practically naked.  Loki wrapped her tightly in several thick blankets.

Finally warm, Signe slyly seated herself on his bent thigh and draped her arms around his neck.

“Now it’s my turn to inspect you, my King,” she purred against his ear.

Piece by piece, the Queen went about removing his armor, kissing each spot of exposed skin as she worked.  One of her blankets slid off her shoulder, which prompted Loki to immediately attach his mouth to her bare skin.

The lovers were interrupted by an uncomfortable throat clearing.

“Uh,” was all that Isla was able to say, her blue cheeks glowing pink.

Laughing, Signe stopped relieving her husband of his armor and briefly buried her face against Loki’s shoulder.   The King, however, continued to let his hands freely roam his wife’s soft body as he nibbled at her neck.  She shivered, then slapped his hands away, but he ignored her.

“Isla?”  Signe fought to keep a straight face as her husband trailed his lips along her collarbone.  “Could you take Njall for a moment?  Loki… isn’t feeling well,” she said with a failed attempt to hide her grin. 

The King froze when Signe offered his sister the baby.  His brows lowered menacingly and though Isla couldn’t tell for sure, she was fairly positive his chest puffed out.

“Be careful with him,” he glowered.

The giantess muttered something under her breath before collecting the sleeping child and a few blankets and making her way deeper into the cave.

When Signe’s attention remained on the departing woman, Loki nipped her especially hard, causing her to yelp.

“Your sister is going to hear us!”

“She heard us last night.  I doubt she’ll be surprised.”

The Queen blushed and hid her face against his neck, moaning quietly against his skin as he stroked his cool hand down her belly.  He grabbed the flesh of her hip and pulled her to the ground, settling between her thighs with a growl.  She laughed, reaching to cup her hand over his mouth to silence him when he snarled and pinned both of her wrists above her head.  For several beats, she struggled against him, eyes narrowed as they grappled for dominance.  Signe even tried to wriggle out from beneath him, but he held her fast.  He had gone from tender to seething in a moment.

“You will not dismount in the city again.”

Her brows raised in surprise.  She had almost forgotten.

“Loki, all I did was speak with that boy—.”

“Not again,” he repeated, squeezing her wrists together and making her wince.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

He gave a jerky nod of acknowledgement but didn’t release his wife.  Instead, the King used his free hand to peel the blankets from her like paper from a package, smoothing the fabric against the cold cave floor beneath them.  In a blink his armor was gone, arranged neatly at his side.

Loki nuzzled her nose with his.

“I know.”

“If I am to be Queen, I’m going to walk through the city at one point,” she challenged.

“You are,” he bit her neck, making her gasp, “the Queen.”

His wife huffed in a pout.

“I don’t feel like a Queen in the present moment.”

“You aren’t the Queen when you’re beneath me,” he growled against her neck.

Though her arms were still above her head, she lifted her chin indignantly.

"Then what am I?”

“Mine.”

He sealed his mouth over Signe’s, swallowing her moan.  Though she fought it, his wife did seem to enjoy his possessive side, and who was he to deny her?  Loki plundered her mouth, relishing in the tiny whines and whimpers she emitted only when she lay under him.  He hooked an arm under a knee and opened her wide, then guided his hard length inside his wife. 

Signe squirmed in his grasp, wanting desperately to touch her husband as he sank into her to the hilt.  She arched up off the floor, pressing against him defiantly as he held her wrists to the ground. 

"Shhhhh,” he soothed her, trailing his lips to her ear.  “Let me have you.”

Signe quieted, then moaned in assent as he sucked her lobe into his mouth. 

She may have submitted, but that did not diminish her hunger for her husband.  Greedily the Queen nudged at him with her nose until he kissed her again.  Unable to deny her, especially when she looked so delectable pinned to the ground beneath them, Loki drug his lips back to hers as he began to thrust.

His pace was deceptive.  It appeared as if he were moving in a gentle and loving rhythm, when he was merely winding her up.  The poor girl had no tolerance for teasing, she simply became a needy, wonton mess whenever he taunted her.  He loved how obscenely wet he made her when with his long, drawn out strokes.  The King slid into her smoothly, withdrawing at a terribly slow pace that made her shudder.  Obstinately she rolled her hips beneath him, clearly seeking something more. 

Her King chuckled and released her wrists.

“Stay.”

Signe glared at the demeaning command, but nodded.

Loki braced himself with both hands, hovering over Signe as his thrusts increased in force, but not speed.  When she moved a hand to her mouth to cover her yelps, Loki hissed at his wife and she dropped her hand back above her head and bit her lip to keep quiet instead.  Loki leaned down, pulling at her lower lip with his teeth until she could no longer silence herself. 

The Queen made an effort to glare at her husband, but when he rolled his hips faster, her brows rose, lips parted in a pleasured gasp and she could no longer remember why she was berating him.  Loki chuckled above her, his hips finally now surging forward at a delightfully brisk speed.  Just as Signe’s vision started to blur, the King slowed his rhythm.  She gave out a choked cry, thrusting her hips angrily up at him.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, kissing her cheek.  “Whose are you?”

She refused to give him the satisfaction of proclaiming herself his.  Her free hands flew down between them, reaching hungrily for her clit in order to get herself off.  Loki rumbled at her and her wrists flew back above her head, shackled with silver forged snakes and secured to the ground with a stake.

Signe cried out in frustration and Loki simply lookied down at her, a devious smirk playing across his lips.  Gradually he increased the pace at which he rolled his hips, bringing her close once more.

“Whose are you?”

They both knew she was his, but Signe was irritated that he wouldn’t let her come and refused to answer him, her lips pressed firmly into a line.  Loki slid his hand beneath her other knee and sat back on his haunches, dragging her lower body with him.  Brutally he pumped into her, immediately forcing keening cries from his wife.  Holding her open with one arm, he snuck the other between her legs and used her slick to rub it smoothly around her clit, stopping when her cries grew loud and desperate.

"Please, Loki,” she whimpered, still trying to arch back and thrust her pelvis towards him.

“Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours,” she stammered, eyes shut tight in agony.

“Good girl,” he crooned. 

The King moved his hand from her clit back beneath her other leg, hauling his wife to him while thrusting against her.  Loki fucked her ruthlessly, her eyes threatening to roll back as her body tensed.  Signe pulled at the cuffs around her wrists, thrashing and thrusting and whimpering, but to no avail.  Loki simply continued driving into her until his wife’s entire body seized and she let out a tormented scream that echoed against the cave.

Vision fuzzy around the edges, her slick walls contracted, mercilessly squeezing around Loki’s cock as she came.  He fucked her through her orgasm, coaxing every little throb and quiver from her body until she lay shaking.  It was then that he doubled his speed, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the cavern as his head fell back and he pulsed inside her, filling his wife’s cunt with his hot seed.

Once Loki caught his breath, he waved a hand and disappeared the cuffs from around Signe’s wrists, pulling her to him so he could massage the angry red marks left from her pulling at her restraints.  She whimpered, clinging to him as her body twitched as aftershocks rolled through the poor Queen.

Her husband held her as she quieted, eventually drifting off to sleep in his arms.  Grumbling about her disregard for her own safety, he bundled back her into cocoon of blankets and nestled her at his side.  As he fell asleep, he faintly recognized the sounds of Isla arguing with his son, and Njall giggling in delight.

x

The storm passed after several hours.  Njall and Isla had wandered back to the fire.  The Princess lay with the baby Prince asleep on her chest, both snoring lightly.  Signe rose and padded towards them.  Smiling, she draped one of her blankets over the pair and tiptoed past her husband to the mouth of the cave.  Ice glittered on every surface.  It coated trees, rock formations, even the snow. 

She wandered outside, stooping and running a bare finger along ice-coated ground.  She flinched and stuck her fingertip in her mouth; the ice was painfully cold.  The Queen looked up when she heard the crunching of steps, and turned expecting receive a scolding from her husband because she ventured out alone.

Instead, she found three full grown Frost Giants and a child, the one she’d spoken with in the city.  _He’d followed them._   They stood between her and the cave entrance.

Her gaze flitted back and forth between the four, lingering on the eyes of the youngest.  Her stomach rolled when he wouldn’t meet her stare.  She yelled for her husband.

“Loki!”

She desperately, truly wanted to believe the best in the Jötunn that stood before her, but their glares suggested otherwise.

The adult Giants surged forward, wrangling Signe in her blankets so that she couldn’t kick or strike out.  She screamed, and a moment later saw Loki’s form appear at the mouth of the cave.  It took him less than five seconds to evaluate the situation and begin flinging his throwing knives.  He killed two of the grown Giants instantly, leaving only the Jötunn child and the man holding his wife.  Signe writhed in his grasp, making her difficult to hold and causing him to drop her.  When she tried to run, he wrenched her back to him.  Loki roared when he heard the sickening snap of bone.  His wife screamed and clutched her arm to her chest, cradling it with her other hand.  Snatching her back up, her abductor took the opportunity to grow a blade of ice his from his hand and hold it to her throat.

Loki was paralyzed.  He was poised, ready to throw one of his deadly knives, but unwilling to risk his wife’s life.

“We will return her in exchange for the Casket,” the Giant rumbled, slowly backing away as Loki watched them helplessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When there's smut in the middle, there's always cause for alarm.


	7. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time Loki had to be part of a _team_. Can you feel him shuddering?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go back and change things up a little bit. Odin isn't quite as dickish as he was.

By the time Loki, Isla and Njall made it back to the city, Loki’s lips were pursed together so tightly were white.  The winter storm had subsided, but it was nothing compared to what was building in the King.  Isla glanced at him, squirming in her saddle as her her brows furrowed in worry.  She’d never had a sibling before.  She knew he was upset, but what on earth was she supposed to do?  He was her younger brother and an unfamiliar part of her psyche urged her to protect him, but she hadn’t the faintest idea how to act on it.  Or if he’d even let her.  She sighed.  At least he wasn’t pouting.

Loki took no notice of his sister’s discomfort.  He was locked in his own head, ruminating on what he could have done differently when Signe was taken.  He should’ve fought for her.  He was her husband, her protector.  She was the mother of his child.  Njall _needed_ her and he failed to keep her safe.  Loki’s knuckles cracked audibly as he fingered his reigns with such a grip that the leather squeaked.  Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he scoffed.  He should not have married.  He wasn’t a fit for such a sacred union, let alone parenting.  How long until he son was taken from him as well?  As he rode, the King’s back was ramrod straight and his horse’s ears swiveled anxiously, picking up on his rider’s despair.

Servants met the siblings at the stables and took the horses as Loki took a moment to check on his son.  Njall’s impending over-tired squawks had begun and his father knew it wasn’t long until the little boy dissolved into tears.  Loki felt the urge to do the same.

Silently Isla and Loki trekked back to the castle, ice from the previous days’ storm crunching under their heavily booted feet.  Once inside, Loki refused to make eye contact with his sister.  Being without his wife made him vulnerable in a way he had never imagined possible, and she was not permitted to see him in such a state.  No one was.

“Have my dinner delivered this evening.  Njall and I will eat in my rooms tonight.  Good day, Sister.”

Silently he turned and briskly scaled the white marbled stairs with his son.

Isla glowered at his back.  Muttering to herself about not looking like a servant, she turned on her heel and summoned a maid to deliver Loki’s message to the kitchens.

On his way up the stairs, the baby started squirming and whining restlessly and Loki doubled his speed at the telltale signs of an imminent tantrum.  Njall wailed and fussed for “Mama” until his face took on an unpleasant deeper shade of blue.  When the cries turned into inconsolable shrieking, a part of Loki broke.  He needed his wife.  Needed her to comfort both of them, because he didn’t know how to soothe himself nor his child.  He held Njall to his chest, rubbing his back until eventually the baby tired himself out.  His screaming was reduced to the stuttered breathing of a child who had cried too hard as he lay his head on his father’s shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

For some time, Loki held his son, quietly walking about the room as the child slept.  He couldn’t let go of Njall, as if putting him down risked losing him forever.  What if he couldn’t get the Casket?  What if he was too late?  He’d failed his wife in every way possible.  Njall whimpered and Loki hugged the baby to his chest, determined not to fail him as well.

Though reluctant to let his boy go, Loki eventually placed Njall in his protected and soundproof bassinette.  The King paced back and forth alongside his sleeping child.  With his son out of his arms, he finally allowed himself to feel the rage.  Normally, his anger was stormy and subtle, if not rather passive aggressive.  It was quiet.  The terrified rage he felt now was anything but.  His fists clenched and unclenched as he walked, quietly muttering violent threats.  He needed to destroy something, someone.  He wanted everyone to feel the agony of Signe's absence that he did.

Loki started at the knock at his door.  Ready to explode at whoever dared disturb him, the King answered to find Isla flocked with several ladies in waiting.  He took a breath and held it, still deciding whether or not he was angry at her for interrupting his brooding.  She interrupted him before he could detonated.

“I thought we might speak.”

With agitation Loki ushered her in, rudely shutting out the other women without a second thought.  He scowled at her.

“What?” 

Isla clasped her hands together before speaking. 

“We need to discuss the Casket.  Jötunheim needs it, but we also need it for your wife.  Is it realistically something your fath—.”

“He is _not_ my father.  I am no Odinson,” Loki snarled.

Isla huffed.  She knew he was upset, but really.  She was _trying_ to help.

“I apologize.  Do you think the King will realistically gift you the Casket?”

Loki glared at her and idly cracked his knuckles, gaze fixated on the window.  The barren land stretched on forever.  How would he even find his wife in this wasteland?  His shoulders sank.

“There was nothing I could do to stop them,” he murmured.

Isla was not expecting to see such an unprotected side of her brother.  Tentatively she approached him and patted his arm.

“I know.  Loki, we will get her back.”

“I—.  I do not know what to do.  I cannot drag Njall to Asgard and back to fetch the Casket.  It is far too dangerous for a baby.”

The Princess thought for a moment, then frowned and shifted uncomfortably as an idea dawned on her.

“Er, the child could stay here.  With me, I mean.  I could… care for him, while you’re away,” his sister offered.

“Absolutely not.”

The Princess threw up her hands and sighed.

“What do you want me to do, then?  Go get the Casket myself?  _That_ went well the first time.”

Realization dawned on Loki’s face and immediately Isla shook her head, her ruby eyes narrowing.

“No.  No, no, no.  I will not go back and drink _tea_ with your ladies.”

“No, of course not.  But you could go to Thor.”

“Your oaf brother?”

Loki couldn’t help but smile darkly.  They really were related.

“Yes, that one.”

“And what then?  Seduce the Casket out of him?”

Loki’s grin was nothing but cunning.  Isla’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“I may not have royal blood, but I am no whore,” she hissed.

The King sighed and thumbed at his lip in thought.

“Then do not seduce him.  Just… Enchant him.  Thor likes women, Odin likes Thor.  Odin will give Thor the Casket.  It will be easy.”

The Princess hesitated and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

“I’m not saying I’m going to do it, but if I were going to—If I went back to Asgard and got the Casket, will you promise to stay?  Here?  To rule Jötunheim and return it to what it once was?”

Loki wandered to the window and stared out at the barren land.  _So much ice and snow and nothingness._ Was this planet indicative of the life he would lead here?  Even if he got her back, Signe may refuse to stay.  The King would understand if she took Njall and returned to Asgard without him.  He sighed.  He could only hope that she’d forgive him.

“I will stay.  If you succeed in bringing the Casket, I will rule.”

Isla released a breath neither realized she’d been holding.

“Then I’ll go.  We’ll do this together.”

x

It took some convincing to get back into the palace at Asgard, for which she had no patience.  After arguing and bullying her way through the guards, she stormed through the corridors, using her height to intimidate anyone that got in her way.  Isla was exhausted and cranky and needed to find the idiot blonde before any harm became Signe.  Eventually she was able to frighten the location of Thor’s rooms from a young servant.  Isla banged on his door with her fist.

“Thor!”

After some giggling and a shriek, the big man poked his head out from his room, brows raising in surprise.

“Princess?”

 “Get rid of her.  Now,” Isla snapped.

Thor had the decency to blush as he motioned back into his room.

“Oh, we are only just beg—.”

“She leaves, _now_.”

A pouty, partially clad woman emerged from his rooms a minute later.  Her gaze was positively murderous when she looked at Isla jealously.  The Jötun rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want him.  He’s all yours.  Come back later.”

The Princess pushed her way into Thor’s chambers and seated herself, crossing one leg over the other.

“Not that it’s not wonderful to see you, Lady Isla, but where is Loki?”

“Loki is ruling Jötunheim.  Signe was taken, you need to get the Casket from Odin in order to get her back,” she said bluntly.

Thor baulked.

“Princess Signe?  She was kidnapped?  Wha—.”

“I don’t have time for your questions.  We must move quickly.  How do you think Loki will react if any harm befalls your sister-in-law?”

Thor’s normally jovial face fell.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  “Oh,’” Isla muttered.

Disappearing around the corner, Thor fetched his armor and returned, standing before the fire.  He began donning it piece by piece.  For several beats the Princess watched him fiddle with buckles and straps as her foot twitched with irritation.

“We don’t have time for this,” the Princess grumbled, rising and advancing towards him.  She snatched up a piece of metal and leather.

“Where does this go?”

Thor pointed to his shoulder and Isla began strapping the armor together, vaguely registering the thickly corded muscle beneath her fingers.  _Not bad for an Asgardian_.  The joint effort saw Thor dressed in record time.  He looked down and admired their work.

“Impressive,” he said with a grin.

The giantess rolled her eyes and headed for the door. 

They strode from his rooms in search of the King.  Isla stood a head taller than Thor and he had to walk faster than normal to keep her pace.  The several times he fell behind, he gazed appreciatively at her backside.  Casually he engaged in conversation as they trekked.

“It is not often a female bests me physically.  Do you spar?”

Isla stopped dead in her tracks and looked down at the Prince.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.  Do not invite a fight you can’t handle.”

Thor chuckled but remained silent the rest of their way.

When they found him, Odin was in the Throne Room with a Vana diplomat.  Both men looked up in surprise at the strange pair before them.  The blue woman, horribly uncomfortable in front of the Aesir king, looked at her feet, deferring to her royal counterpart.

“Father, I apologize for the interruption.  I’m afraid it’s an urgent matter that cannot wait.”

Odin’s eyes flicked back and forth between his son and the giantess. 

“Very well.  Please, excuse us for just a moment.”

The ambassador nodded and left the room and Odin glared at the pair.

“My son, there had better be a good reason for bombarding me in the middle of a meeting.”

“There is, I’m afraid.  I am here to ask fo—.”

“The Casket is not up for discussion.”

“Father, you don’t know the situation, if you would just listen—.”

Odin shook his head again.

Isla had had enough of the Odin’s blatant disrespect for Loki.

“You old fool,” Isla spat at the King.  “You were his _father_ once.  Do you care nothing for Loki?  His wife has been taken and we need to Casket in order to return her safely.  Though you act aloof and ignorant, you know Loki better than most.  You know of his darkness, of what he’s capable of if any harm comes to her.  No one in the Nine Realms will be safe from his wrath.  _That little boy is the only thing tethering him to reality right now._   We _need_ the Casket.”

Thor cleared his throat, impressed by the Jötun’s speech.  He chimed in.

“We are not leaving without the artifact, my King.”  It was rare Thor used such a title with his father. 

“And if I give you the Casket, yet harm befalls Signe anyway, what then?  Loki will be twice as powerful.  No one would be able to stop him from wreaking havoc.”

“The power within the Casket can be transferred.  The pure energy within is what Jötunheim needs.  Signe’s captors won’t be able to tell the difference between an empty, glowing box and the real thing.  That way we retrieve the Queen and the Casket never touches anyone’s hands but mine.”

Both Thor and Odin’s brows rose at “Queen.”

“Loki has agreed to rule Jötunheim,” Isla explained uncomfortably. 

For a moment Odin’s eyes blazed with fury, but he took a deep breath and spoke, surprising both Isla and Thor.

“He will make a fine ruler,” Odin murmured to himself.

Isla’s brows rose in surprise, but she nodded in agreement. 

“He will.  But first we must retrieve Lady Signe.  And we can only do that with the Casket.”

Odin shook his head.

“As Keeper of the Nine Realms, I cannot in good faith release the Casket into your possession.  You will find another way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, leave feedback. I hate smutless chapters, but I need two willing participants for that kind of hanky panky and Signe's on hiatus. So. Too much plot? Not enough? Does it skip too much? Obviously we're not done and I'm trying to gauge how to go about the rest of the plottyness. Please and thank you!


	8. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time there was Jötunn snark, sibling shenanigans and Loki singing to babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone that clicked the email notification and found their way back here, thank you! It's been an eternity since I updated, and I know I've promised some of you I haven't abandoned this story and I truly haven't. Welcome back to Hush!

In the Throne Room, Isla nodded solemnly to Odin.  The King had declined to produce that which the Princess needed in order to successfully return home.  The Casket was the only thing that would lead to Signe’s safe return and the restoration of Jötunheim.  When she spoke to the Allfather, her tone was icy, but not completely impolite.

“Thank you for your time, your Majesty.”

Thor stood sputtering as she bowed and turned, striding for the doors.  The Prince huffed and trotted after her.

“Lady Isla!”

His booming voice echoed through the halls, prompting her to turn and raise her brows as she casually leaned against the cold stone wall of the hall.

“Yes?”

“You cannot leave without the Casket.  Loki must have it for his wife’s sake.”

“Odin is unwilling to part with it.  I will find an alternative,” she said coolly and pushed off the wall, descending the stairs that led to the Bifrost.

Thor followed and grabbed her wrist, letting go with a shout and clutching his now-frost-burned palm.

“You idiot,” she grumbled, halting and closing her eyes immediately.   A light sheen of protective ice visibly coated her blue skin from head to toe.

“You can’t just touch me, you lout.  My skin burns you.  You have to give me warning so I can cover myself.” She snatched his hand and examined it, shaking her head.  “It shall heal in few day’s time.  Now, goodbye.”  She turned once again and briskly trotted down the remaining stairs.

Thor dropped his hand to his side and sighed in frustration.

“Please, spend the night here,” he called.

When Isla spun and quirked a dark brow, Thor flushed.

“Just the night.  I mean sleeping.  In the castle.  In your own room.”

The Princess hesitated, glancing at Thor uneasily.  She was weary, and did need time to concoct a plan to get the damn Casket.  And, he looked like a needy puppy and even Frost Giants weren’t immune to those.  With a sigh, she nodded.

“Fine, but only because it’s late and I’m tired.”

 

The Jötunn Princess was readying herself for bed when a solid _thunk_ banged several times against her door.  Without a hint of curiosity, because she knew exactly who was on the other side, she yanked the door open and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes?”

“Come, we must go,” Thor urged. 

Isla took a deep breath and pursed her lips to keep from going off on the Prince.  Clearly he was trying to help her get the Casket, which wouldn’t do.  He was Asgardian royalty.  He couldn’t steal from his own people.  He’d cause a war.  She shook her head.

“I already told you, I’ll find a different way.”

“I have a different way, Princess,” Thor cheerfully announced.

After angrily shushing his booming voice, the giantess stuck her hip out and planted her hand on her waist, staring at him with doubt written all over her face.

“Oh, and what, pray tell, is that?”

“Well, I know where it is and how to secure it…”

Isla baulked.

“You want to _steal_ it?”

He nodded.

“From your father?  You want to steal the Casket from the King of Asgard?”

Thor shrugged guiltily and motioned at her.  “I cannot let such a fair maiden return home empty handed.”

Isla looked up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes.  How exactly had she gotten into this?  “You can, and you will.”  Isla remained stoic.  “I’m stealing it myself.  Do not get involved.”

Thor grinned sheepishly and held up a heavy satchel that roughly outlined the Casket.

“Y-You already stole it?  And you brought it up _here?_ ”

Thor elbowed his way into her room and set the bag on the bed.

“There was no other way.  What you said about my brother is correct: If Signe is not returned to him, he will become irrevocably damaged and destructive.”

Isla knew Thor was right.  Because she was right.  This may be their only chance at saving all Nine damn Realms from Loki’s wrath.

Thor wrapped his fingers around the artifact, lifting it gingerly from the bag.  Isla sighed and went to her pack, pulling out a velvet case that she held open so he could slip the cold, humming relic inside.  Sealing the box, the giantess stuffed it back into her bag and slid it over her shoulder.  She sighed dramatically, looking Thor up and down with uncertainty before huffing and squaring her shoulders.

“How do we get to the Bifrost?”

 

 

Signe grit her teeth in pain as a female giant tended broken her arm.  The fracture in her wrist was clean, but shards of ice from her captor’s rough handling had pierced her skin like slivers and the tiny wounds needed cleaning after the bone was set.  The giantess leaned in, closely examining the Queen’s flesh before looking to her partner with a frown.

“Why are we able to touch her skin without causing damage?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” grunted a male Jötunn as he glanced out the frosted window.  He’d been on alert since his counterparts dragged Signe into the abandoned manor.

Signe sat in an enclosed space, entrapped by bars made of ice.    She shivered and flexed the fingers of her good hand in an attempt to work some feeling back into them.  The Queen had been taken a little over twenty-four hours ago and though she’d been given a crude gown and cloak, she was shivering.  Never had she known such bone chilling cold.  The only perk was that it numbed her throbbing arm to a degree.  The giantess glanced dubiously at the Queen, her face pinched with irritation.

“If she doesn’t get warm, she’ll freeze to death.  Asgardians have never fared well in our lands.  They’re too weak.”

She put the finishing touches on Signe’s bandages.  The male made a noise of disinterest and the female Jötunn sighed, looking apologetically at the hostage.  She rose from Signe’s side and waved her hand, cutting an exit into the ice pillars that constructed the cell and stepping out into the main room.  With another gesture, the ice melted back into itself, effectively sealing Signe inside the makeshift cage.

A small shadow cast near the doorway caught the Signe’s attention.  At first his face was hard to see in the dim light, but the boy from the city shyly came forward.  He cautiously walked towards her, his arms stacked with wood.  Without looking at Signe he began constructing a small fire to keep her warm.  When he finished, he brushed his fingers against the cell bars closest to the fire, casting a protective charm to keep them from melting.

Signe sighed.  She was a foreigner in Jötunheim, so to say that the boy had betrayed her when he had no allegiance in the first place would be unfair.  There was no use in getting upset with him, he was just a child, likely following his parents’ orders.  She offered the boy a tight smile before turning to the male giant.  She cleared her throat and grasped one of the bars of ice with her good hand.

“I understand the situation in Jötunheim is bleak, that is why Princess Isla brought us here.  My husband, Loki, is working to bring the Casket back to the the realm in order to spread its power throughout the planet.  There’s no need to keep me here by force.  We all want the Casket for Jötunheim.  Loki and I want the kingdom to prosper.

The male didn’t acknowledge a single word she said.  Her eyes narrowed at his back.  Hefting her cloak even closer around her shoulders, she tried a different tactic.

“My husband is a very powerful man.  He is not pleasant when he’s angry.  Especially when someone takes his things.”

Save for the child, the Giants continued to ignore her.  Signe frowned and released a sigh.  She truly understood their desperation and she didn’t want them to suffer at Loki’s hands for doing what they felt was right… But this was getting absurd.  She was cold and uncomfortable and she wanted her husband and baby.  The female Jötunn disappeared for a moment and returned with a ratty blanket, which she handed to Signe between the bars.

“Hopefully your husband will come for you soon,” she wrung her hands and glanced at the other Giant.  “He’s given most of his food to our boy to eat today.  He’s not thinking right.  I’m sorry you’re involved in this,” she murmured uncomfortably.

Signe gratefully took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders while she settled next to the fire.  She glanced pointedly at the woman.  The Queen shrugged; she had done what she could to talk sense into her captors.  They were on their own now.

“I certainly hope he’s adept at diffusing difficult monarchs.  I can’t guarantee Loki will leave him alive.”

 

 

Once they passed into Jötunheim by way of the Bifrost, Thor and Isla made it partway to the castle before they were forced to hole up in a cave due to another wicked ice storm.  Thor would not allow Isla to journey back on her own, insisting that it was delivering the relic was duty as he was the one that technically stole the Casket.  The Princess was irritated that Thor’s delicate skin couldn’t withstand the weather, but he was the reason the artifact was finally back in its rightful realm, which rendered him tolerable.

The Princess stomped about outside the mouth of the cave after collecting tinder for the weaker being.  The warmth of the cavern itself was a relief to the Thor and he eagerly took the kindling from Isla and went about building a small fire.  The giantess laid out their cloaks on the chilly stone floor to use as makeshift bedrolls.  She slowly froze to a stop when Thor’s tinkering ceased.  The Princess could feel his eyes boring into her back.  Without turning around, because that would indicate too much interest, she spoke.

“Can I help you?”

Thor rumbled with laughter and shook his head.

“Forgive me for staring, I cannot help it.  You are most pleasant to look at, Princess Isla.”

The giantess rolled her eyes and wearily sat on the cloak she’d laid out for herself.  The air crackled as she formed the protective layer of ice around herself, just in case she and Thor happened to brush against one another while they slept.  Isla untwisted the shawl around her shoulders and bunched it into a ball on which to rest her head.  As she lay down, she glanced at the Asgardian through narrowed eyes.

“Is this flirtatious act usually effective on women, Prince Thor?  Because it makes me nauseous.”

Thor grinned unabashedly.

“I apologize if I make you uneasy, Princess.  I find you fascinating and merely wish to know more.  I have never spent time with a Frost Giantess in such proximity.”

She huffed and lay down on her back.  Thor put the finishing touches on his fire before doing the same, though instead of laying supine he rested on his side facing her.  With a huff, Isla turned over, staring at Thor with a raised brow as she propped herself up on an elbow.  Silently they stared at each other, Thor’s blue eyes playful and Isla’s scarlet ones irritated.  The Prince cleared his throat as if to speak, but Isla interrupted him before he could get a word out.

“Goodnight.”

The corner of Thor’s mouth quirked into a partial smile, and he nodded in temporary defeat.

“Goodnight, Lady Isla.”

 

The Princess waited until the Asgardian had been snoring for an hour before making a move.  Silently she rose and crept to his pack.  She delicately opened the bag and lifted the box, put it in her own and synched it tightly.  She felt mildly guilty as she looked over her shoulder at the Prince, smiling in his sleep, but there were more important things at risk than teamwork with some Asgardian.

 

A team of guards met Isla at the Jötunn palace’s entrance and ushered her inside.  Once through the giant icy gates and into the castle, Loki was nowhere to be seen.  She admitted to herself that she had been expecting a mild welcome home from her brother on account of she was helping save his wife, but apparently, they were on different wave lengths.  When she called for him once inside the castle and heard only her own voice bouncing off the cold walls, she trekked up to his rooms. 

The sound of singing echoed down the hallway as she approached the royal chambers.  She frowned and knocked on his doors.  She couldn’t picture Loki singing; there must be an intruder in his rooms.  The guards on either side of his doors held up their hands in confusion. 

“No one has come or gone,” one claimed.

They were just as perplexed as their Princess.  Grumbling, Isla forced the doors open and stormed in. 

“Hello?”

The melody continued flowing from the bathroom.  Raising her voice, she tried again.

“Hello?”

The singing ceased and she heard the bubbling sound of running water stop, followed by a splash.  A moment later, Loki emerged, damp shirtsleeves rolled up, with a sopping wet Njall, who had toy trolls fisted in each hand while his father wrestled him into a towel.  Badly mimicking the same tune his father had been singing, the baby cooed and held out a troll to Isla while Loki fought to dry him off.  The Princess frowned and stared at the child while he babbled.  Loki glared at her when she stared at the little Prince in confusion.

“He’s giving it to you.  We’re working on sharing.  Take it.”

With a slight blush, Isla took the toy from Njall and offered him an unsure smile.  The toddler let out a peal of giggles, and though confused, Isla couldn’t help but smile at her nephew.

When she glanced back at Loki, his eyes were searching her body, scanning for the relic.  “Did you get it?  Do you have the Casket?”

Isla nodded and shrugged her bag off of her shoulder, then dug out the velvet case and held it out to him.  His hands trembled just slightly as he wrapped his fingers around the ancient box.  It hummed with power and glowed an icy blue.  He glanced at Isla.

“We must leave tonight.”

“Loki, we will leave in the morning.  I understand your urgency, I share your haste as Thor is half a day behind us, we must hu—.”

“ _Thor_ is in Jötunheim?”

Loki’s laugher upon learning his brother was in his realm was not the reaction Isla expected.  She played idly with the handle of a dagger strapped to her side and shrugged her shoulders.

“He insisted on helping.  Technically, he’s the one that stole the Casket, not me.  But I still I don’t trust him, he’s not Jötunn.  I left him snoring in a cave with plenty of firewood.”

Ever since meeting Isla, Loki’s face was either a sneer or pinched in disdain for both her and her realm.  For the first time, the God of Mischief’s eyes reflected his namesake.  They shone with a new appreciation for his sister and her devices. 

She gave him a hesitant smile, looking between her brother and his baby.  Quickly, distress overtook Isla’s features as she eyed the child.

“Oh, Norns,” she muttered.  “What are we going to do with Njall?  He can’t accompany us.”

Loki’s lip curled and he cursed under his breath as he realized their dilemma.  He repositioned Njall on his hip, watching his child as he experienced utter turmoil.

“I can’t leave him here, who would care for him?”

“Well you certainly can’t take him with us.  A battle is no place for a child.”

Loki raised a brow and looked down his nose as Isla, “I am certain there is no being in this realm fit to care for my son.”

Isla groaned in exasperation, “Who do you think raised me?  Frost Giants are capable of caring for young.  He’s half Jötunn, how hard can it be?”

“I’ll have you know he’s an incredibly unique boy, he’s extremely gifted and very special.”

Isla fought the urge to roll her eyes.  A helpless baby was a helpless baby, she didn’t care how _gifted_ it was unless it could defend itself.

“We’ll leave him with guards and and several nursemaids.  He’ll be fine.”

Loki raised his chin, studying Isla’s face.  He inhaled as if to speak, but thought better of it.  After several more awkward moments of silence, he sighed.  “I-Alright.  Alright.  But I insist on interviewing them personally before we leave.”

“Good thing we’re not leaving until morning,” grumbled Isla.

Loki ignored her and set about dressing Njall, who was turning slightly blue around the edges from the cool temperature of the room.  Thoroughly swaddling his son, Loki rocked him for several minutes until the boy’s lids grew heavy and closed as he released a sleepy sigh.  Delicately he lay him down in the bassinette and began humming.  Isla stepped to the side, watching in slight awe as Loki crooned to Njall, ushering the baby into a relaxed state as he lulled him to sleep.  Still singing softly, the King watched his child slumber for several minutes and Isla shifted uncomfortably.  The intimacy of the scene was wildly uncomfortable and she didn’t know what to do.  She’d never seen anything like it.  Jötunn parents didn’t coddle their young, it served no purpose in childrearing.  But, when Loki “coddled” his son, it didn’t seem as silly a concept as it had when she was growing up.  It almost seemed.. nice.  Like they were connected.  His voice broke through her thoughts, cold and piercing.

“We leave at first light,” Loki said lowly without looking up.

The Princess gazed at him and hesitated, unsure of what to say.  Her lips parted, but it took a moment for form a response, “Yes, My King.  We’ll leave at first light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, beloved followers.


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